


i didn't know i was lonely til i saw your face

by dharmainitiative



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - New Girl, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, Roommates, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 22:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 59,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16128362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharmainitiative/pseuds/dharmainitiative
Summary: Still rebounding from a breakup, Derek Nurse moves into a loft in downtown LA and attempts to navigate living with five former college hockey players.Or, a New Girl AU.





	1. Moving In

**Author's Note:**

> Just a few things before we get into it:
> 
> 1\. This is a New Girl AU. No, you don't have to watch New Girl to understand what's happening (but you should watch it anyway just to benefit your life.) In the fic, Nursey, Jack, Farmer, April, March, Hops, Bully, Louis, and maybe other characters I might add later never went to Samwell. Nursey also never went to Andover. (Bitty, Dex, Chowder, Ransom, Holster, Shitty, and Lardo DID go to Samwell.)
> 
> 2\. This fic takes place about four years after Dex and Chowder and Nursey have graduated from college, which technically means it takes place in 2022. But I reference pop culture things that are popular/trendy right now (such as Stranger Things) in this chapter, and will probably continue to do this as the fic progresses. Specifically, I refer to Stranger Things as if it's still airing. Stranger Things will probs not be airing in 2022 and the other things I reference will probably not still be popular in 2022. So, in summary, just pls ignore these consistencies bc I cannot predict the future and time is just a construct
> 
> 3\. I created a playlist to listen to while I write this fic because I'm extra as hell, so if you want something to listen to while you read, the playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/user/gracemcgready/playlist/3p1LgJ0P3SCtBUut5Px4pJ?si=NxY8lvG2QS-a5Vr9NksqrA
> 
> With that, I hope you enjoy!

“So, you know in horror movies when the girl’s like, ‘Oh my God, there’s something in the basement! Let me just run down there in my underwear and see what’s going on!’ and you’re like ‘Girl chill, what is the matter with you, call the police.’ And she’s like ‘Okay,’ but it’s too late, because she’s already getting murdered?” Derek Nurse asks. When he’s met by blank stares, he continues, “Well, uh, my story’s kinda like that.

“So, I’m from New York, right? But I moved to LA like four years ago, and met this guy Noah right after. And he was great and funny so we started dating, fell in love, and then moved in together, you know the drill. Like, I thought he was _the one_ , you know? So a few weeks ago I went back to New York to visit my family for a little while and we were texting the whole time, saying how much we missed each other and how we couldn’t wait to see each other, all that couple stuff. And I thought, ‘wow, wouldn’t it be super romantic if I came home early and surprised him?’ So I booked an early flight and left.

“I had this whole thing planned. I rode an Uber to my apartment completely naked except for a sexy trench-coat, and I was gonna walk in, surprise him, and then have super mind-blowing “I missed you” sex. But then when I got there Noah wasn’t all that thrilled I was home early so I was like “Chill, I guess he really _is_ surprised,” only then this random naked guy walked out of his room and he _also_ didn’t look thrilled I was there, and then I figured out Noah had been cheating on me for like six months.

“So, uh, yeah. That happened. And that’s why I need a new apartment,” Derek finishes. Once again, he’s met with blank stares from the five strangers that sit on the couch in front of him. “I’m sorry, what was the question again?”

The redhead who sits at the end of the couch blinks. “Uh...do you have any pets?”

“Oh. Right.” Derek says. “Nope, no pets.” When the redhead — Derek thinks his name is Dex, which is easy to remember because it’s the only name he’s heard since entering the loft that has any shred of normalcy — just stares, Derek shifts a little in his seat. “Uh, so. What’s up with you guys’ names?”

The guy who introduced himself as Ransom laughs a little, seemingly grateful for a change in conversation. “They’re nicknames. It’s a hockey thing.”

“Yeah, we all played on the same team in college,” says the guy sitting to the left of Ransom — Holster, maybe? — his arm thrown across Ransom’s shoulder.

“Samwell University,” adds the guy sitting on the other side of Ransom, who Derek thinks is named after some sort of soup. “Go Wellies!”

Which is an explanation that makes a lot more sense than what Derek had been trying to come up with, so he says, “Oh, chill. I actually played hockey in boarding school.”

Dex raises his eyebrows. “Boarding school?”

“Chyeah,” Nursey says. “Phillips Exeter.”

Dex’s eyebrows draw further together, and Derek thinks he’s maybe said the wrong thing, but Holster grins. “’Swawesome, dude!” He says, holding up his hand. Derek grins back and gives him a high-five.

“To be honest, Derek, you seem like you’d be a good fit,” says the short blonde who sits next to Holster — Bitty, maybe? “Our last roommate was really weird, so we kicked him out, and now we’re short on rent, and you’re the only — ” He hesitates and then says, “Well, you’re the most normal person we’ve interviewed so far.”

“Chill!” Nursey says, excited. “So, when can I move in?”

Dex makes a noise. “Uh, well I was hoping we could ask you some more questions first.” The Soup Guy — Chowder? — elbows Dex in the ribs. “What? I mean, we barely know him.”

“No, that’s okay, I get it,” Derek says, even though _he’s_ willing to move into an apartment with _five_ people he barely knows. “Uh, well, I’m a fifth-grade English teacher, so I always have a surplus of stickers. And books. I read a lot. And then sometimes forget the book I’m reading and leave it lying around somewhere and can’t find it.”

Dex raises his eyebrows. Derek’s beginning to wonder if that’s his permanent expression. Chowder elbows him again.

“Not that I’m messy or anything,” Derek interjects quickly. “Like, I can be, but not like. Bad Messy.” Dex’s expression doesn’t change, so he adds, “I’m really quiet, too. You won’t even know I’m here. I don’t stay up late and party and I don’t bring people home to have loud sex or anything. Actually, my college roommate said I was quote-unquote awesome. I mean, he wasn’t actually home that often, but still.”

The five of them exchange glances, and Derek shifts nervously again.

Bitty turns to Derek with a sweet smile. “You don’t mind if we go discuss in private, do you?”

“Oh, sure, that’s totally chill,” Derek says, waving his hand. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” Bitty says, and the five of them file out of the living room and into a door down the hallway to the left.

As soon as the door to the bathroom is shut, Bitty turns to his four other roommates. “So, what’s the consensus?”

“I vote yes!” Chowder announces. “He seems nice.”

“Well, I vote no,” Dex decides, crossing his arms over his chest. “He tripped _twice_ on his way in here and he’s said the word ‘chill’ about five times. It's been  _thirty minutes_.”

Ransom gives Dex a look. “Seriously, man?”

Dex shrugs, defensive. “I just got a bad vibe.”

“Dex, your opinion doesn’t count because you get a bad vibe from every single person you meet,” Bitty says dismissively, and Dex makes an outraged noise.

“You know, if he _does_ live here, he’s gonna have to have a hockey name,” Ransom says.

“He _did_ say he played hockey in high school,” Chowder points out.

“What kind of nickname can we make out of Derek Nurse?” Holster ponders aloud.

Ransom thinks about it for a second. “Nursey?”

“Dude!” Holster cries. “That’s perfect!”

“You guys, you can’t _name him_ ,” Dex whines. “Then you’ll grow _attached_.”

“Look, I vote yes,” Bitty says. “Like I said, this is the first person we’ve come across that hasn’t been _totally_ batshit crazy. And also, I’m the main reason that none of you have starved yet, so I think I get executive power.”

Everyone turns to Dex expectantly.

Dex groans. “ _Fine._ He stays.”

Chowder cheers, and Ransom and Holster exchange high-fives.

The five march back out into the hallway, where Derek sits right where they left him, looking expectant and also a little worried.

“You’re in,” Bitty informs him.

“Really?” Derek asks, and almost bounces in his seat with excitement. But just as quickly, he relaxes his face into a neutral expression and clears his throat. “I mean, yeah, that’s chill.”

Dex holds in a groan.

“Thanks, though, seriously,” Derek says. “You guys are life savers. I really needed a place to stay, and I promise you won’t regret this.”

\--

Sharing an apartment with five other guys in their late twenties is just as weird as Derek — or, as he is referred to now by the rest of his roommates, _Nursey_ — probably should have expected it to be.

To be fair, living with anyone is hard. Everybody has their own quirks, of course, and those quirks can be hard to get used to. But getting used to five different peoples’ quirks all at once is even harder.

For one thing, there’s a giant mason jar that sits on the bookshelf in the living room that has a neon sticky-note with “Douchebag Jar” written on it in sloppy handwriting. There’s a number of bills — mostly ones and fives, although Nursey swears he spotted a ten in there once — inside it, and Nursey has already witnessed several of his roommates stuff bills into it.

It’s a weird concept, to say the least. Even weirder is when Nursey himself is forced to put money in the jar for saying something to the extent of, “caviar is _way better_ than escargot, bro.”

“Rules are rules, man,” Holster had said when Nursey tried to protest. “We need a new dryer.”

Another thing that’s hard to adjust to is Chowder’s pretty intense obsession with the San Jose Sharks.

“He’s native to California, so it’s a big deal for him,” Ransom had explained. “He never misses a game.”

Nursey’s eyes widened. “Never?”

“Never.”

What Ransom failed to mention, however, was that most, if not all, of Chowder’s wardrobe was Sharks related, his entire room was decked out in teal, and he got scarily “in the zone” while watching their games. When Nursey once interrupted the game to ask Chowder if he wanted anything to drink, he thought Chowder was going to rip his arm off.

“Does he always get like this?” Nursey asked Dex, who’d happened to be walking by when the incident occurred.

“Yep,” Dex said. “You’ll get used to it.”

Another thing Nursey has had to get used to is Dex himself, who is...well, he’s kind of an asshole.

Firstly, he’s really anal about cleanliness. Like, every time Nursey accidentally leaves a shoe or a book or another one of his belongings in the living room — which hasn’t been _that_ many times, thank you very much — Dex totally blows up at him, claiming that he’s “taking up space,” or whatever. Which is ridiculous, anyway, because it’s the _living room_ . He’s allowed to leave his stuff there every now and then. Because he _lives there._

It’s other stuff, too — Dex rolls his eyes practically any time Nursey opens his mouth, especially if his sentence contains the words “mad” or “hashtag” anywhere in it.

He’s tried telling him to chill, but that usually only makes it worse.

“I think he hates me,” Nursey says after he and Dex’s third fight of the week. He’d been in the kitchen with Bitty and Holster, trying to make coffee before work, when the coffee-maker had just...shut off. Before Nursey could do anything, Dex had immediately pushed him out of the way, banged on the top of of the coffee-maker, and flipped the power switch on and off three times.

The coffee-maker had whirred back to life.

“Uh...does it do that a lot?” Nursey had asked, hesitant.

“Yep. You’ll get used to it,” Dex said again.

“I mean...I could just buy us a new one, if that’s chill,” Nursey suggested.

Dex’s eyes had immediately narrowed. “We’re not a fucking charity case, Nursey,” he practically seethed, and then stormed off.

“Nah, that’s just Dex,” Bitty says now, waving his hand. “He’s pretty much got a permanent stick up his ass. He’ll come around.”

But if Nursey’s roommates’ habits are hard to get used to, it’s nothing compared to his new neighbors.

The day Nursey moves in, Bitty and Ransom announce that they’re going to the grocery store. Most of Nursey’s stuff has already been unpacked, and he has no plans for the rest of the day aside from working on his novel, so he says, “Can I come? I need a few things.”  

“Sure, like what?” Bitty asks.

“Shampoo, conditioner, toothbrush, that kinda stuff.”

Bitty and Ransom exchange a glance. “Shouldn’t all of that be stuff you already own?” Ransom asks.

“Well, I do. But it’s all at my ex’s house.”

“Can’t you just go get it?”

Nursey hesitates before admitting, “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

He half-expects them to push, especially Bitty, and for a second, it looks like he’s going to, but instead Bitty just shakes his head. “Okay, honey,” he says. “Whenever you’re ready.”

So he, Bitty, and Ransom head out the door and take the elevator down to the lobby. Nursey is just about to ask if they can stop by Trader Joe’s while they’re out when they reach the lobby, the elevator doors _ding_ open, and Nursey is face-to-face with none other than Jack Zimmermann.

“Holy shit,” Nursey says to him. “You’re Jack Zimmermann.”

“Uh…” Jack Zimmermann says, looking visibly startled. “Yeah?”

Nursey tries to say something else, but no words come out.

“Uh, sorry, Jack,” Bitty says, giving him a polite smile that looks more like a cringe. “This is our new roommate, Derek.”

“Oh, okay,” Jack says, still looking a little hesitant. “Uh, nice to meet you, I guess?”

Nursey tries to say “You too,” but he’s pretty sure he just mumbles something unintelligible.

Ransom sends Jack an apologetic look and drags Nursey out of the elevator, Bitty in tow. “Bro. What was that?” He asks Nursey once they’re out on the sidewalk.

Nursey blinks, looking at Ransom incredulously. “What was _that?_ _That_ was Jack Zimmermann.”

“If that’s your reaction to seeing him in our lobby, wait ‘til you find out he lives on our floor,” Bitty says to Nursey.

Nursey gapes. “ _Jack Zimmermann_ is our neighbor? _The_ Jack Zimmermann? NHL Falconers Superstar Jack Zimmermann? Son of Bad Bob Zimmermann?”

“Why do you sound like you’re listing off his Wikipedia page?” Ransom asks.

“I don’t understand why you two are acting so casual about this!”

“Honey, I hate to break it to you, but being neighbors with Jack Zimmermann isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Bitty says. “Every time I’ve tried to talk to him he completely cuts me off with one word answers. I even baked him a pie when he moved in and barely even got a smile! He’s rude, if you ask me.”

Ransom snorts, and says to Nursey, “He’s just angry because he thinks Jack is hot, only Jack won’t even give him the time of day.”

“Justin Oluransi,” Bitty says with a murderous look in his eyes. “I will not tolerate this _slander_ — ”

“But why does Jack live in _our_ building?” Nursey interrupts. “He plays for the NHL, his salary is probably unimaginable. He could definitely afford to live somewhere nicer.”

“It’s probably because the author needed a convenient way to include Jack in this story,” a random man passing on the street says to the three of them.

Nursey jumps, looking over his shoulder to see a man wearing plaid walking the other way, but doesn’t catch a glimpse of his face. He turns back to Bitty and Ransom. “Who was _that?_ ”

“That’s Johnson,” Bitty says, waving a hand. “He’s just this guy who hangs around our building. He says stuff like that all the time. Don’t worry about it.”

Surprisingly, though, the run-in with Jack is not the weirdest interaction Nursey has had with one of his new neighbors. The most bizarre interaction happens the morning after Nursey moves in, when he walks into the living room and finds a man with long brown hair and a mustache asleep on their couch, totally naked.

Nursey can’t help it — he screams, and the man jumps, blearily opening his eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He asks Nursey, slowly getting off the couch.

Nursey splutters for a few minutes. “Who are you?” He finally stammers out.

“Oh, right. Sorry, I’m Shitty,” he says, as if that explains anything at all.

Nursey hesitates. “Is that a name or a description?”

Shitty just laughs.

It turns out that Shitty lives in the apartment next to theirs with his girlfriend, Lardo. Unsurprisingly, they both went to college with the rest of Nursey’s roommates — Shitty was on the hockey team, and Lardo was team manager — and now they own a bar down the street that Nursey’s roommates go to pretty regularly.

Also, he frequently ends up naked on the couch in their loft because sometimes when he comes home after work he’s drunk and forgets which apartment is his.

“Why naked, though?” Nursey asks after Shitty has returned to his own apartment, fully clothed.

“No one really knows,” Bitty says, sipping his coffee.

“One time he accidentally ended up in the apartment at the other end of the hall,” Ransom explains. “A bunch of dudes named Chad live there? It did _not_ go over well.”

“Yeah,” Holster agrees. “They lock their doors now.”

Needless to say, Nursey’s run into a couple of issues in adjusting to life in the loft. And it’s not even all of his roommates’ quirks (although that’s definitely an issue) — it’s just that all of his roommates are _so close_ . Hell, they come from all across the country (except for Ransom, because he’s from _Canada_ ) and they got so close in college that they all just decided to live in LA _together._

It’s kind of hard to believe, honestly. Then again, Nursey went to Harvard. All of his college friends were assholes.

They didn’t all decide to move to LA at once, Nursey’s pieced together — it was more like some sort of Samwell Hockey migration pattern. Chowder had gone to LA first, right out of graduation, wanting to be closer to home, and Dex had followed him, wanting to be closer to his best friend. (Nursey still can’t quite wrap his head around the fact that Dex, the biggest grump of all time, is best friends with _Chowder_ , but that’s a different matter _._ ) Ransom and Holster, who’d lived in a tiny apartment in Boston with Shitty, Lardo, and Bitty at the time, had moved a few months after Chowder and Dex when their company transferred them to the LA location. And Shitty, Lardo, and Bitty had missed Ransom and Holster, so they moved not long after that.

He’s not sure how or when they all ended up in the same apartment, or why Shitty and Lardo decided to move right next door. He thinks it probably has something to do with them wanting their own space, though Nursey isn’t quite sure it matters, seeing as Lardo and Shitty are over so often it’s almost like they live there themselves.

All Nursey is _really_ sure about is that his roommates and their dynamics are...well, they're a lot to deal with, and most of the time, Nursey feels like a sixth wheel. Or eighth, when Shitty and Lardo are included. Which is why when he’s in the break-room with his coworkers a few days after moving in and Bully, their school’s dance teacher, asks him how it’s going, he hesitates.

“Dude,” Bully says, concerned, after seeing the look on his face. “Is it really that bad?”

Bully has always been too nice, in all sorts of surprising ways. It’s why all the faculty at Banyon Canyon decided to give him such an ironic nickname. It’s also why he’s secretly Nursey’s favorite coworker.

“It’s not _bad_ ,” Nursey hedges, tossing more blue cheese into the salad he packed for lunch. “It’s just...a lot.”

Louis, the music teacher, frowns as he brews a cup of coffee at the counter. “I don’t know why you were in such a rush to move somewhere else in the first place, man.”

“Yeah,” second-grade teacher Mr. Hopper, or Hops, pipes up, slumped tiredly in the chair across from Nursey. He smiles gratefully at Louis when he brings Hops a cup of the coffee he’s just finished brewing. “I mean, if you really don’t like them, you could always move back in with us for a little bit.”

Nursey ignores the suggestion — he’d lived with Bully, Hops, and Louis for a couple of weeks after the break-up, and already feels like he overstayed his welcome. Plus, their place is a total shit hole. “It’s not that I don’t like them. They’re just…”

“A lot,” Bully finishes for him. “I know.”

“You should just be glad they aren’t murderers,” says Louis, flopping into the empty chair next to Bully and nearly spilling his coffee. “That’s what you get when you find your roommates off of Craigslist. I’d wanna move out if I were you, too.”

“But I don’t _want_ to move out. Not really, anyway,” Nursey says. “I mean, yeah, these guys are a little weird, and I’m pretty sure one of them kind of hates me, but...I actually like them. A lot. And they’ve all been friends for so long, you know? They’re _super close._ Like, finishing each other’s sentences, close. Especially Ransom and Holster. Don’t even ask about the names,” he adds when he sees Louis’ eyebrows raise. “Look, I see the friendly and natural camaraderie between them and...I don’t know. I just kinda want to be a part of it?”

“Aw, Derek,” Hops says with a frown.

Nursey shrugs, a little insecure. “I guess it’s just...with everything that’s happened to me lately, I feel like this could be good for me.”

“Well, I hope it is,” Hops says firmly as he takes a sip of his coffee, even though Nursey’s pretty sure it’s still too hot.

“Yeah, man,” Bully agrees. “If anyone deserves a win, it’s you.”

Nursey smiles a little, shy. He loves his coworkers, he really does, and a part of him does wish he could just move in with them. But again — their apartment is a shit hole.

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t worry too much about the whole roommate thing,” Louis adds. “I mean, it was bound to be weird and awkward at first, right?”

Nursey takes a deep breath, and gives his coworkers another smile, one he hopes looks optimistic. “Yeah. You’re right.”

\--

 Chowder is sitting at the kitchen table with Dex, Nursey, and Lardo when Holster slams the door to the loft open, screaming so loud that Chowder drops his spoon right at the bottom of his bowl of oatmeal.

The fact that this isn’t the first time it’s happened is why Chowder sometimes asks himself if he needs better roommates.

“Is there a particular reason why you’re screaming loud as all get out before 9 am?” Bitty asks from the kitchen as Ransom and Holster come barrelling into the loft, lifting one eyebrow.

Holster has the decency to look a little sheepish. “Okay, in my defense, I _do_ have a really good reason.”

Chowder isn’t sure if he believes him, because the last time this happened, it was because Holster saw a Pomeranian wearing a bow-tie down in the lobby.

Still, Dex regards Ransom and Holster with an unimpressed look and says, “Well, let’s hear it.”

“Well, Holtzy and I were on our way back from Annie’s, right?” Ransom says. “But we noticed a moving truck parked in front of our building, so we decided to snoop around and figure out what was happening.”

“Tell them what we discovered, Rans,” Holster says, as if the two of them are pitching a sales meeting and not having a normal conversation with their roommates.

“There were not one, not two, but _three_ hot girls unloading boxes and bringing them into the building!”

Bitty blinks. “Is that all?”

“ _No,_ ” Holster says, affronted, giving Bitty a look. “There’s _way_ more. Guess what floor they’re moving their stuff onto?”

“I’m taking it from your expression that it’s ours,” Lardo says dryly.

“Well, yeah, duh,” Ransom says. “But guess _which_ apartment?” When everyone just stares blankly at him, he finally announces, “The one at the end of the hall!”

Chowder drops his spoon into his oatmeal again. “No way!”

“Wait,” Dex says, showing genuine interest for the first time. “Did the Chads _finally_ move out?”

“YES!” Holster cries, clearly thrilled that someone else is finally interested in his story.

“Oh man,” Lardo says, shaking her head. “Shitty's gonna be thrilled.”

“How did we manage to miss that?” Bitty asks.

“Who cares!” Ransom cheers. “They’re gone! Just accept this gift as it’s been given to us!”

Chowder lets out a laugh, half out of amusement and half out of relief. The other day, when Dex and Chowder were in the elevator with a Chad, Dex had almost punched him for a snide comment. The last thing Chowder needs to worry about is his best friend getting evicted from the building.

“And _now_ ,” Holster continues. “Me and Rans are gonna go to the lobby, _accidentally_ run into those girls, help them move in, and maybe try to get laid.”

“Jar,” Lardo says immediately.

“You don't even live here,” Holster grumbles, but dutifully shoves a dollar in the Douchebag Jar. “Anyway. Any of you guys want to come?”

“Y’all.” Bitty says. “Seriously?”

“Bits, look,” Ransom placates. “Holtzy and I haven’t gotten laid in...a really long time. Holster hasn’t even been on _date_ in like. 300 years.”

“Rude, but fair,” Holster grumbles.

“We need this,” Ransom continues. “And anyway, we’re just doing them a favor. Being neighborly. Supporting our community.”

Dex’s eye-roll is practically audible.

“Well, as much fun as it would be to see y’all make fools of yourselves in front of those poor innocent girls, I’ll pass,” Bitty says, shaking his head. “I’ve got work, anyway.”

“Same,” Lardo nods. “But feel free to stop by after and get drinks to help soften the pain of rejection.”

Ransom makes a face at her.

“You have to work? It’s Saturday,” Nursey says to Bitty from his seat at the table next to Chowder. Chowder’s almost surprised to hear him speak — he’s been quiet all morning, and Chowder’s not sure if it’s because Nursey’s shy or just intimidated by his weird new roommates. He thinks it’s probably a bit of both.

“Yeah, well, the bakery is open every day,” Bitty says. “Which means I’m there every day, too.”

“Bitty, if you hate it so much, why don’t you just quit?” Ransom asks.

“Because of this little thing called _money,_ Rans.”

“Hard same,” Dex says into his coffee.

“Fine. Any _other_ takers for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?” Holster asks.

“Pass,” Nursey replies. “I don’t think finding a rebound would be a good idea. Besides, I’m more of a ‘cry, get really drunk, and watch _Dirty Dancing_ ’ guy post-break-up, anyway.”

Dex, whose friendly conversations with Nursey thus far have been fairly limited, actually snorts. Nursey’s eyebrows raise, surprised, and then he grins to himself, looking pleased and maybe just a little smug.

“Well, I’ll go!” Chowder offers. “Someone needs to make sure you two don’t make total fools of yourselves.”

“And if you just happen to get a date with a hot girl out of it?” Dex sips his coffee and raises his eyebrows.

Chowder flushes. “I never said that.” Though, truthfully, maybe he was thinking it. His last date wasn’t as long ago as Holster’s, or even Ransom’s, was, but it’s been longer than he’d care to admit.

“Whatever,” Dex laughs. “You guys just don’t harass those girls too much.”

“Dex, please,” Holster scoffs. “We’re total gentlemen. We’ve got this.”

\--

When they reach the sidewalk outside of their building, Holster takes one look at the girls unloading their moving van and says, “Yeah, I don’t got this.”

“What do you mean?” Chowder asks from next to him. “They look like really nice, friendly girls.”

“Yeah, but…” Holster trails off. “They’re like _really_ hot.”

“Uh,” Ransom says. “Isn’t that the point?”

“I mean, _intimidatingly_ hot.”

“Yeah, well, we’re intimidatingly hot, too,” Ransom says, confident. It’s annoying, but if Holster was Ransom, he’d probably be more confident, too.

“Ransom. How am I supposed to flirt with these girls? You were right, I really haven’t been on a date in 300 years. And I already had terrible game to begin with.”

Chowder glances between Ransom and Holster and grimaces. “He _does_ have terrible game...”

“Not helping, Chow.”

“Sorry.”

“Look, don’t worry about it, okay?” Ransom says. “I’ve got your back, and I have _amazing_ game. I’ll be your wingman! It’ll be just like college.”

Chowder looks at Holster. “He _was_ a great wingman in college,” he points out.

Holster sighs. He actually has no confidence in his ability to handle this, but he looks over at Ransom, who he's pretty confident can do just about anything, and says, “Okay.”

“‘Swawesome!” Chowder grins. “Besides, all we’re doing is being nice and helping our new neighbors, right?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Ransom agrees.

Surprisingly, putting it that way helps, so Holster inhales and then the three of them make their way over to the move-in truck.

Chowder, evidently the epitome of confidence, is the one to step forward first. “Hey, do you guys need any help?”

A girl with long brown hair, box under her arm, turns to face Chowder with a blinding smile. “Oh, hi!” She says, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh my gosh, some help would be great, actually!”

Chowder stares.

“I’m Caitlin Farmer,” the girl continues brightly, either ignoring or not noticing the awe-struck look on Chowder’s face. “Do you guys live in this building?”

Chowder begins to stammer. Ransom looks over at Holster, exasperated, and Holster bites back a laugh.

“This is Chris Chow,” Ransom tells Caitlin, stepping forward and giving Chowder a reassuring pat on the back. “I’m Justin, and this is Adam. We live on the top floor.”

“Oh, wow!” Caitlin says. “So do we! We’re just now moving in.”

“Yeah, I think they gathered that from the moving truck, Cait,” says one of Caitlin’s roommates as she pulls her black hair into a ponytail.

Caitlin flushes a little, but rolls her eyes.

The blonde to Caitlin’s left rolls up the sleeves of her volleyball jersey and snorts. “That’s April,” she says. “She thinks she’s funny, but she’s mostly just annoying.” April shoots her a look, which the blonde ignores. “I’m March, by the way.”

Holster lifts an eyebrow and looks between the two of them. “So...March _and_ April?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. We’ve already heard every joke there is,” April says, but she’s grinning a little.

It doesn’t take much to convince the girls to agree to Holster, Ransom, and Chowder’s help — they have a lot of stuff — so minutes later, the guys are carrying boxes and various items of furniture up the elevator and setting them down wherever the girls dictate they should go.

Fortunately, Chowder recovers from his awe regarding Caitlin Farmer quickly enough and starts behaving like an ordinary person again, though he still stammers a bit whenever she pauses to smile at him.

But to Chowder’s credit, Caitlin seems a little taken with him, too. She smiles a lot in general, but she definitely directs most of her smiles at Chowder, and every time she picks up a box, Chowder offers to carry it, even though every time Caitlin blushes and tells him not to worry about it. They’re practically glued together all day, chatting about the building and the coffee shop down the street and what they like about living in LA. From what Holster’s eavesdropped — which is, admittedly, quite a lot — they have a lot in common, most notably that they both grew up in California, and they love the San Jose Sharks.

Honestly, Holster firmly believes that Caitlin Farmer is Chowder’s soulmate.

Throughout the day, Holster actually learns a lot about Caitlin and her three roommates. They all have jobs they really enjoy — March owns a bookstore, April is a physical trainer, and Caitlin is a vet tech. Apparently, all three of them went to the same college — UCLA — and played on the same volleyball team. They’ve stuck together since graduation, not unlike Holster and his roommates, and March and April even graduated the same year as Holster and Ransom.

Buy the most surprising thing Holster learns is that his game isn’t as terrible as he thought it was, because it honestly feels like April is sort of into him.

He could be just imagining things. After all, it’s been ages since Holster’s been with anybody — the last girl he dated broke up with him about a year after graduation, and the last person he hooked up with was some guy at the bar maybe over a year ago. But it really, _really_ feels like April is into him.

Sure, she’s got that snarky, deadpan exterior, but she laughs at just about every one of Holster’s jokes — in a genuine way, not just to be polite — and seems actually interested in what he has to say, whether it’s tips to avoid the weird homeless guy who hangs outside their building and always has something cryptic to say, or his opinion on the best and nearest coffee shop.

And honestly, April is really pretty. Like, “definitely out of his league” pretty, but simultaneously “sort of exactly fits into his type” pretty. She’s shorter than most of the girls he’s dated, but still — she’s funny, and smart, and athletic. And has he mentioned, like, crazy pretty yet?

Regardless, they’re not even close to finished — there’s still a stack of boxes sitting on the sidewalk, and they have to unpack everything — but Holster’s already considering the morning a success. This may be the best idea he and Ransom have ever had. (Though the burrito burger they created sophomore year during finals week comes pretty close.)

Speaking of Ransom, Holster thinks the morning is going pretty well for him, too, because he seems to have really hit it off with March. To be fair, she seems like an easy person to hit it off with, anyway — she’s nice, friendly, and bubbly, and spends the entire afternoon cracking jokes and carrying on conversation with everyone, not just Ransom.

Every now and then, though, Holster sees her glance over at him and April out of the corner of her eye. At first he thinks it’s weird, but later, he decides it’s a good sign — she’s looking out for her friend, the same thing Holster’s doing for Chowder and Ransom. Loyalty and protectiveness are good qualities in a person, Holster thinks, which makes him feel like March is an even _better_ match for Ransom.

“So, you and March?” Holster says to Ransom later, and winks suggestively. The two of them are taking a break from unloading boxes and sipping some water in the kitchen (which, by the way, is _way_ nicer than theirs, what the hell is up with that?)

Holster expects Ransom to shove Holster and get all shy and bashful about it, but instead he just takes a sip of water and looks contemplative. “I don’t know, man. I mean, March is really pretty and really cool, but I don’t think it’s like that.”

“Are you kidding?” Holster asks, incredulous. “She’s been flirting with you this entire time.”

Ransom shrugs. “I kinda think she’s just being friendly?”

Holster shakes his head empathetically. “No way, dude. She’s def into you. Why wouldn’t she be? You’re a total catch.”

Ransom smiles a little, and there’s the shy and sort of pleased look Holster was expecting. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, man,” Holster insists, and claps Ransom on the shoulder. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently.”

Ransom smiles wider, one of his smiles that are so big that it sort of feels like you’re directly staring into the sun, so Holster looks away.

“Hey, guys,” Chowder says suddenly, joining them in the kitchen to grab a glass and fill it with water. He’s alone, which means the girls must still be downstairs, grabbing more boxes.

Honestly, these girls are strong as hell. Holster isn’t sure he’s seen them take a break once.

“So I kinda just realized something,” Chowder continues.

“Is it that you’re totally in love with Caitlin Farmer?” Ransom asks, raising his eyebrows.

Chowder glances back at the doorway to the apartment, as if he’s worried Caitlin will walk in and overhear. When he decides the coast is clear, he turns back to Ransom and narrows his eyes. “ _No._ I realized that like thirty minutes ago, thank you very much.” Holster snorts into his water. “It’s just that I realized we kinda left Nursey and Dex in the apartment all afternoon. Alone.”

Ransom frowns, and Holster grimaces, because it’s not exactly a secret that Dex can’t stand Nursey.

“Maybe they’ll be fine?” Ransom says, though he doesn’t sound so sure.

“Yeah, maybe,” Chowder considers, and then shrugs. He’s always been overly optimistic. “Who knows? Maybe they’ll bond.”

\--

Dex and Nursey have been alone in the loft for about four hours and Dex hasn’t seen him since breakfast, which is perfectly fine with him.

Look, it’s not that Dex _hates_ Nursey or anything. He’s just...not a big fan.

He’s well acquainted with Nursey’s type — after all, the guy went to boarding school and he graduated from _Harvard._ Nursey’s just a cliche hipster who has practically skated through life off of his parents’ money, and to top it off he’s clumsy as shit and never rinses off his dishes before putting them in the dishwasher.

Alright, fine. Dex maybe hates Nursey a _little_ bit.

But regardless, Nursey’s still his roommate. Which is why Dex has decided it’s beneficial for the both of him if he avoids Nursey until the rest of their roommates come back, because if he hears Nursey say “chill” one more time, he might just lose it.

And the avoidance is going pretty well, too, until he hears a knock on the door to his room, and Nursey pokes his head in the room.

Dex holds in a sigh.

“Hey, bro,” Nursey says. “Would it be okay if I borrowed your laptop charger?”

Dex does sigh this time. “Let me guess. Yours is still at your ex’s house?” Nursey makes a face, and that’s pretty much the only answer Dex needs. “Yeah, you can borrow it,.” He unplugs the charger from the wall next to his bed and passes it to Nursey.

“Chill,” Nursey says as he grabs the charger. Dex successfully withholds a groan while he waits for Nursey to leave. Instead, Nursey hesitates in the doorway and clears his throat. “Uh. What’s up?”

“Watching Netflix,” Dex says, hoping the shortness in his tone conveys that he wants to be left alone.

“Chill,” Nursey says again. _Good God._ “What are you watching?”

“ _S_ _tranger Things_.”

“Oh,” Nursey says, and why has he not caught on yet that Dex wants him to leave? “I haven’t watched that. I probably will, eventually, but it’s such a big thing right now, you know? Kinda wanna wait until the attention dies down.”

Dex tries not to roll his eyes, because of _course_ Nursey thinks _Stranger Things_ is too mainstream for him to watch.

“But, I’m not doing anything right now,” Nursey continues. “So we could watch it together on the TV in the living room. Or something.”

And Dex really, really doesn’t want to do that, but now he feels sort of bad. Nursey sounds hesitant, and even though Dex hasn’t exactly been making it a secret that he hates Nursey, he still feels shitty that Nursey found out. Especially because Nursey is evidently still willing to _try_ to be friends with him.

And, to be fair, Dex hasn’t really given Nursey a chance, yet. He supposes it wouldn’t hurt to give him one. And watching a couple of episodes of _Stranger Things_ with Nursey isn’t gonna kill him.

Probably.

“Sure,” Dex says. “I’ll come in there.”

Nursey gives Dex a small smile. “‘Swawesome. I’ll grab some chips.”

So Dex grabs his blanket, settles on the couch, and queues up Netflix, while Nursey grabs a bag of chips — sour cream and onion, which is Dex’s favorite.

He’s starting to think maybe this won’t be so bad.

Even though Nursey says he doesn’t have to, he starts with the first episode — Nursey would end up confused, otherwise, and Dex has seen all of the episodes at least twice, so it’s not like he’s going to get behind.

It starts out okay. Nursey is relatively quiet, but seems to genuinely like the show, asking a few questions here and there when he’s confused. He’s not overly chatty, either, something that would have driven Dex nuts, though he does make a few comments here and there.

But all-in-all, it’s going pretty well, until Nursey says mid-way through the second episode, “Pretty fucked that Lucas is the only main character that isn’t white. I mean, I get that Indiana is hella white, and it’s the 80’s, but it’s not like people of color were non-existent, you know?”

Dex just shrugs. This is apparently not the right response, because Nursey gives him a look. “What, you don’t agree with me?”

“I _agree_ with you, I’ve just never thought about it before, that’s all.”

Nursey huffs, leans back against the couch, and mutters, “Of course you haven’t.”

And, okay, _now_ Dex is pissed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Nursey shrugs, trying to go for his perpetually chill attitude, but the scowl on his face gives him away. “It _means_ that you’re close-minded as hell, Poindexter.”

“Are you fucking _kidding?_ ”

“C’mon, dude,” Nursey scoffs. “You took one look at me and immediately decided you hated me.”

Dex splutters. “Because you’re _an annoying hipster who’s never had to work hard for anything in your life,_ not because you’re _not white!_ ”

“Hmm, there you go, making more assumptions! See? Close-minded as hell!”

“Yeah?” Dex fumes. “Well _you’re_ insensitive. _And_ judgmental. Acting all horrified that we haven’t gotten a new dryer or coffee-maker yet or like you’re superior because you shop at Trader Joe’s instead of Walmart. And don’t even get me started on you saying ‘chill’ every ten goddamn seconds...”

“Oh _whatever_ ,” Nursey says. “ _Excuse me_ if I thought maybe some ‘chill’ would help you pull that gigantic stick out of your ass.”

“ _Oh my God,_ ” Dex says, and laughs, incredulous and bitter. “I can’t fucking _stand_ you.”

“Yeah? Well then why’d you agree to let me move in?”

“I DIDN’T!” Dex bursts out. “I DIDN’T EVEN _WANT_ YOU TO MOVE IN IN THE FIRST PLACE!”

Nursey blinks, and for a second, looks a little hurt, and Dex feels maybe a little guilty. But just as quickly, the chill facade goes back up, and Nursey shifts away from Dex to the opposite end of the couch, turning back to the TV.

“Rewind it,” Nursey says. “I don’t even know what’s happened for the past like, five minutes.”

Dex turns back to the TV, too, refusing to look at Nursey, and grits his teeth. “Well, maybe you’d know what was happening if you hadn’t tried to pick a fight with me.”

“Are you fucking serious? Just rewind it, Dex.”

And Dex could easily avoid another fight by rewinding it, or even better yet, tossing Nursey the remote and going back to the isolation of his own room. But instead, he says, quite childishly, “No.”

Nursey lunges back to Dex’s side of the couch and tries to yank the remote out of his hand, but Dex holds the remote up higher. “You’re literally _ridiculous —_ ” Nursey lunges for the remote again, and misses. “Just — ”

“Maybe you should’ve been _paying attention_ in the first place — ”

“You are so fucking — ” And then, Nursey finally snatches the remote from him. Only he snatches it a little too hard, loses his grip, and the remote goes vaulting towards the other side of the room, and shatters the TV screen.

For what feels like hours, but must only be a few seconds, Dex and Nursey sit on the couch, still and silent with shock.

“Uh…” Nursey finally says, breaking the silence, and then grimaces. “Oops?”

Dex turns to face Nursey, and his hands clench into fists at his sides. “Nursey,” he says slowly. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Nursey swallows.

\--

It takes about four hours for them to finish carrying all the boxes into the girls’ apartment, and by the time they’re done, all six of them are sweating profusely and chugging water as if LA is in the middle of a drought.

“Maybe next time we move we should just hire a moving crew,” March says to her roommates, wiping sweat off her forehead.

“And how exactly are we going to do that when all three of us are broke?” April asks.

March frowns. “True.”

“You can just call us next time,” Holster suggests, and damn if Ransom doesn’t know where the hell he figured out how to be so smooth.

“Oh, yeah?” April says, and looks over at Holster, raising an eyebrow. The two of them are draped over the couch that Chowder and Ransom had brought into the apartment only an hour earlier. “And what would you possibly get out of that?”

“Free water and snacks, duh,” Holster says.

“Yeah? Anything else?”

Ransom half-expects Holster to lose his cool and choke out an answer, but instead, he says, hopeful and maybe a little endearingly earnest, “Maybe your phone number?”

It’s probably the biggest line Ransom’s ever heard Holster use, and what’s crazier is that it _works_ , because April laughs and says, “Sure, okay.” And then just _gives him her number._

Chowder, who is sprawled in a bean-bag on the other side of the couch, looks at Ransom, incredulous. Ransom just shrugs.

“Speaking of snacks…” Caitlin trails off, looking away from Holster and April’s blatant flirting.

March, who looks immensely grateful for the distraction, sits up. “I'll get some from the pantry.”

“Need any help?” Ransom asks. He’s asking to be polite, of course — he’s a guest, and his mom raised him to have at least  _some_ manners. But maybe he’s also asking because it feels awkward to be squeezed on this couch with a flirting Holster and April right next to him, and he likes March. She’s nice, and sweet, so sue him if he wants to leave the apartment with her number and maybe a date in the future.

“Sure, that’d be great,” March beams, and Ransom follows her into the kitchen.

He grabs the bag of chips from the pantry and March grabs a huge bowl and dumps the chips inside. He grabs a few water bottles, too, because he seriously has never felt so thirsty in his entire life.

“So, April and Holster seem to have hit it off pretty quickly,” Ransom says to March as he roots through the fridge for more water bottles, trying to make conversation.

March doesn't look up, busying herself with the chips. “Honestly, I’m a little surprised. April usually likes to play hard-to-get.”

Ransom shrugs. “Well, Holster _is_ a catch.”

March laughs. “Can’t argue with you there.”

Finally, Ransom emerges from the fridge, arms loaded with water bottles, and sets them down at the kitchen island. “Hey, I was wondering...” He says, trying for casual. He thinks he achieves it — he’s always been pretty good with girls — but it’s been a while, so he’s a little rusty. “Would you maybe you want to hang out sometime? I know you’re new to the area, so I could show you around, we could get coffee? There’s a really great place across the street.”

March raises her eyebrows. “Like a date?”

All cards on the table, Ransom says, “If you want.”

March smiles. “That’s a really nice offer, but...I’m kinda hung up on someone else,” she admits.

Ransom would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little disappointed by the rejection. But he’s not a dick; March had no obligation to say yes, and she was also really polite and nice about it. This is _definitely_ not the worst rejection he’s ever gotten.

“Hung up on your ex?” He asks, and smiles in a way he hopes conveys ‘no hard feelings.’

March makes a face. “No. I wish. That’d probably make me a little less pathetic.” She laughs a little in a self-depreciating way.

Ransom laughs, too. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

March looks surprised. “What, you too?”

“Oh, no,” Ransom says, almost too quickly. “I just meant that I used to be, back in college. So I know where you’re coming from.”

March looks like she’s going to say something else, but instead just shakes her head. “Yeah. Kinda sucks.”

Ransom just nods.

“I wouldn’t mind hanging out with you, though, sometime. As friends,” she adds for clarification.

And again, Ransom likes March. She’s really nice, and friendly, and easy to get along with, and being friends with someone that’s not a 20-something-year-old guy he’s known since college actually sounds pretty appealing.

“Yeah,” Ransom says, and grins. “That’d actually be really nice.”

\--

After working at the bakery for almost three years, Bitty has figured out how to tell bad customers apart from normal customers. It’s like they give off a particular aura.

Or maybe it’s easy to figure out because the worst customers are always the middle-aged white women.

Needless to say, when Bitty shows the customer the beautiful cake he’d finished decorating mere minutes ago, and the lady, who is probably named Karen or something else just as suburban-white-mom sounding, says, “The icing was supposed to be white and pink,” Bitty isn’t surprised.

Bitty glances at the cake, with white and blue icing, and then looks at the order form, which very clearly has “white and blue icing” written on it. Then he turns back to Karen and says, in the most friendly customer service voice he can manage, “Oh, I’m so sorry about that, ma’am! I can fix it for you, if you’d like?”

Karen purses her lips, making her look like a frog with a ‘Can I speak to your manager?’ haircut. “Well, I was under the impression that the cake would be ready on time, so.”

Bitty looks at the time. It’s 1:50. The cake is due at 2:00.

“It actually won’t take that long for me to fix,” Bitty says now, still in his Fake Customer Service voice. “Only about five minutes.”

“Well, I’m already running late, so the blue and white is just gonna have to do,” Karen says tersely.

“Alright,” Bitty says, cool as a cucumber, and rings up Karen’s order. Karen pays for it without another complaint and signs the receipt, deliberately scrawling a sharp zero next to “Tip,” and Bitty purposefully makes sure not to say “Have a nice day” as Karen walks away, because quite frankly, he hopes Karen has the worst day of all time.

Thank God he gets off in an hour.

But thirty minutes later, when Bitty goes to the back to pull another cake out of the oven, his boss, Kirk, blocks him from going back out to the front.

“So, I just got a call from a woman named Kim Williamson. She said she ordered a cake but didn’t get the right colors for the icing.”

_Kim. Not Karen,_ Bitty thinks. _Well, close enough._

Bitty flashes Kirk what he hopes is a winning smile. “Yep. She just came by. I asked if she wanted me to fix the cake, but she said no, so. Guess she was fine with the icing after all.”

He moves to step around Kirk again, but Kirk blocks his path. “She says you didn’t give her a discount.”

“Uh, no? Should I have?”

Kirk frowns. “You know it’s company policy to give discounts to dissatisfied customers.”

“Kirk,” Bitty says, trying not to lose his patience. “You know me. You know I’m the best decorator this store has. That cake looked beautiful. She just wanted a reason to complain.”

“But she said the icing colors were wrong,” Kirk says again.

Bitty’s patience is wearing _really_ thin. “The order form said white and blue, so I decorated it in white and blue. And when I offered her to fix it for her, she said no. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Give her a discount. Like I said.” Kirk says shortly. “Eric, I don’t have time to be answering phone calls from angry customers. If you want that raise you keep asking for, I’m going to need you to prove you know how to handle situations like this.”

And that’s it. Bitty’s patience is gone. “So what you’re saying is that I should’ve given that woman a discount for forgetting what colors she wanted on her cake?”

“Eric,” Kirk says in a warning tone.

“Look, I’m not giving a woman who can’t treat _me_ with respect any sort of discount, and I shouldn’t be expected to, either,” Bitty says, and watches as Kirk’s eyes widen in alarm. He should stop talking — actually, he shouldn’t be saying any of this at all — but he’s sick and tired of this job, and he’s sick and tired of being treated like dirt by both his customers and his employer, and he can’t quite bring himself to shut his mouth. “And you know what? I prove to you _every day_ that I deserve that raise. I’m not just your best decorator, I’m your best employee, period. And I shouldn’t have to work that hard for something I already deserve in the first place.”

“You can’t talk to your manager like that,” Kirk says, sounding outraged.

“I’m not,” Bitty says, and then makes a split-second decision he may later regret. “Because I quit.”

Kirk looks panicked as he watches Bitty take off his apron. “You can’t quit!”

If Bitty had taken a second to think about what he was doing, he might would've agreed with Kirk. He would've at least made the responsible decision to walk out of the store quietly, without making a scene or burning any bridges with his most long-term job.

But Bitty has been imagining quitting and creating a scene pretty much ever since he was hired, so instead he says, “Good luck running this store without me, Kirk, because I think we both know I’m the only reason it’s still standing.”

And then he turns and walks out.

The bakery is only a ten-minute walk from the loft, so Bitty only drives to work when he’s feeling particularly lazy, and as he makes his way home, he’s extremely thankful he hadn’t felt lazy that morning, because his hands are shaking so badly that he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to stick his key in the ignition.

“Holy shit,” Bitty says softly to himself. “I just quit my job.”

It honestly feels kind of exhilarating. He’s wasted years of his life at that store absolutely miserable, dealing with angry customers, stupid, angsty teen employees, and a lazy manager, and now he doesn’t have to step a foot inside those doors ever again.

And yeah, he’s going to have to find a new job now, obviously. But that shouldn’t be too hard. He’s in LA; there are thousands of job opportunities just around the corner, especially for someone who went to culinary school and has three years of experience as a dedicated bakery employee.

_Which might not be very likely to recommend me to any future employers after I just stormed out of there,_ Bitty suddenly realizes, and yeah, okay. He probably could’ve handled that entire situation better.

But it doesn’t matter, Bitty reasons. He’s free. The world is his oyster.

Sure, he’s going to be broke for a little while, but whatever. Things will work out.

_Wow. I’ve got to call my mom._

He’s just entered the elevator of his building and is about to press the button and head to his floor, when someone else steps into the elevator with him. For a second, Bitty hopes it’s one of his roommates, but when he looks up from his phone, he realizes that instead, it’s Jack Zimmermann.

“Oh. It’s you,” Bitty says.

Jack steps inside the elevator and presses the button to their floor. The disappointment must have been evident in Bitty’s voice, because he says, “Were you expecting someone else?”

And if this were any other day, Bitty would have the audacity to feel embarrassed. But it’s not like Jack Zimmermann has ever spared a thought for _Bitty’s_ feelings, so instead, he says, “Not exactly. But you know, actually, I’ve actually had a pretty rough day, so, I’m not in the mood to talk.”

“Oh,” Jack says, looking a little startled, and clears his throat. “Uh. Sorry to hear that.”

Bitty just shrugs and prays for the elevator to move faster.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Jack pipes up suddenly. “For being rude to you before. And not thanking you for the pie.” Bitty turns and looks at him, so stunned that he can’t think of anything at all to say. “It was good?”

Bitty blinks. “You remember the pie?”

“Well, I take it from the way you’ve barely looked me in the eye ever since that _you_ do.”

Now Bitty _does_ feel embarrassed. Lord, what would his Mama think.

“I’m sorry,” Bitty immediately gushes. “I don’t — ”

Jack gives him a small smile. Bitty's face feels warm. “It’s okay. I was rude to you first, anyway.”

The elevator finally _dings_ open, and Bitty and Jack reach their floor. “See you later. Eric, right?” Bitty manages a nod, and Jack steps out of the elevator and makes his way towards his apartment. “Uh, I hope your day gets better.”

Bitty stands in the middle of the hallway, still stunned, until Jack shuts the door to his apartment.

For a second, Bitty debates knocking on Jack’s door and confessing his profuse apology. Then he realizes how weird that would be, and turns down the hallway towards his own apartment.

After his dramatic walk-out at work and hugely bizarre conversation with Jack, he’s eager to sit on the couch, vent to his roommates, and maybe have a drink or two. That is, until he opens the door to the loft and sees a fire-engine red Dex, a sheepish Nursey, and a shattered TV screen.

“What did y’all do?” Bitty asks, stunned.

“ _Nursey_ broke the TV,” Dex grits out. If this was a cartoon, Bitty thinks, he’d be able to see angry red lines and exclamation points coming out of the top of Dex’s head.

“Uh, no way. This was just as much your fault as it was mine,” Nursey insists.

“Funny, because I distinctly remember _you_ grabbing the remote and flinging it against the TV.”

Nursey glares at him, but when he says, “It was an _accident,_ ” he sounds almost meek.

Bitty almost feels bad for him. But he feels a little worse for their TV.

“Well, can we fix it?” He asks. Dex looks at the shattered screen and then back at Bitty as if he’s grown a second head. “I’m gonna take that as a no.”

“Yep.” Dex says. “We have a broken coffee maker, a dryer on the fritz, and now no TV.”

“Well, I hope y’all aren’t gonna ask me to help pay for a new one,” Bitty announces as he moves into the kitchen to set down his stuff. “Because I just quit my job.”

Dex’s eyes widen. “Wait, seriously? You actually quit?”

“Yep.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” Nursey asks, a little hesitant. “You hated your job. So you’re feeling good about this, right?”

“Well I _was,_ sort of,” Bitty says. “Until I learned that we’re gonna need a new TV.”

“I’m really, _really_ sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, okay, Nursey?” Dex says. “We _need_ a TV.”

“Look, It’s gonna be fine,” Nursey says. “ _I_ have a TV. We can use mine.”

Dex falls silent. “ _You_ have a TV?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it a _nice_ TV?” Bitty asks.

“Mhmm,” Nursey says. “It’s a flatscreen. And it’s a smart TV so it comes with Netflix and everything.”

“Well, where is it?” Dex demands.

Nursey shifts from foot to foot. “Well,” he says. “It’s kinda still at Noah’s house.”

“So _go get it_ ,” Dex says through gritted teeth.

Nursey bites his lip. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for — ”

“Well _I_ don’t know if I’m ready to live a life without TV, Nursey!” Dex yells, cutting him off. “Just go fucking get it!”

“Honey, Dex is right,” Bitty admits. “You’ve been here over a week and you still don’t have half your stuff. I know it’s hard but that’s _your_ stuff, Nursey. You deserve to have it.” He pauses. “And we deserve to have that TV.”

Nursey still looks hesitant, but then he sighs. “Yeah, I — okay.”

“Okay, great!” Bitty claps his hands. “When Rans, Holster, and Chow get back, we’ll head over to Nursey’s dirtbag ex’s house and get all his stuff back.”

“And our new TV,” Dex reminds him.

Nursey blinks. “Wait. You guys wanna come with me?”

“Not at all,” Dex says shortly.

“ _But,_ ” Bitty adds, shooting Dex a warning look. “You’re gonna need help carrying all your stuff to your car.”

“Well, that’s true,” Nursey concedes. “But — ”

“You guys, guess what?” Chowder cries suddenly, flinging the door to the loft open, Holster and Ransom in tow. “I’m in love!”

When no one responds, Chowder, Ransom, and Holster take a moment to observe the scene they’ve walked into.

“Wait, what happened to the TV?” Chowder asks.

Bitty lets out a long sigh. “I need a drink,” he announces, and heads to the kitchen.

\--

 

Less than an hour later, the six of them find themselves parked in front of Nursey’s ex’s house. Nursey drove, Bitty had grabbed shotgun, and the rest of their roommates sat in the back.

Nursey thinks that squeezing six people into Bitty’s minivan defeats the purpose of using it to transport all of his stuff, but he’s certainly grateful for the support.

“Okay, Nursey,” Bitty says in a soothing voice. “You’re gonna get in there and you’re gonna say, ‘Hey, Noah. I’m here for my stuff.’ And then you’re gonna march in and grab it, and we’ll all help you load it into the car. That’s it, just in and out. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Nursey says, trying for confident and ultimately falling short.

Bitty evidently picks up on this, so he reaches over and squeezes Nursey’s arm reassuringly. “Hey. It’s gonna be fine.”

“Yeah,” Ransom pipes up from the backseat. “And we’ll be right here if you need us.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Chowder agrees. “You got this.”

Nursey takes a deep breath. “I got this.”

“No, no, no,” Holster says, leaning forward in his seat so that he’s in front of Nursey. “Say it again. Like you mean it this time.”

“I got this.”

“One more time.”

“I GOT THIS!”

“Hell yeah you do!” Holster cheers, and claps Nursey on the shoulder. “Now go get your stuff!”

“I’M GONNA GO GET MY STUFF!” Nursey repeats with conviction, and climbs out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him and marching up to his cheating dirtbag ex’s house.

But when Nursey pounds on the door and Noah swings it open, Nursey feels all his confidence die.

From Bitty’s mini-van, the five roommates try to spy on Nursey and his ex inconspicuously.

“What does he look like?” Holster hisses, trying to peer out the window.

Ransom, who has a better view from his seat, squints. “Uh, he’s wearing a cardigan in September and he has a man-bun.”

“Is he hot?”

“Yep.”

“So, essentially…he’s exactly Nursey’s type,” Chowder realizes.

“Yep," Ransom says again.

“Oh, no,” Bitty groans.

Dex sighs. “He’s screwed.”

“Derek,” Noah says to Nursey now, and actually smiles. Nursey tries to avoid looking directly at him. He’s always had great teeth. “It’s great to see you.”

“I’m here for my stuff,” Nursey says, trying to invoke the confidence he’d felt earlier, but he doesn’t think he’s doing a very good job. He hasn’t seen Noah since the break-up, and he knows the guy cheated on him and all, but fuck. They were together for _four_ _years._ He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss him just a little bit.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Do you want anything to drink or something?”

“No. I’m here for my stuff,” Nursey repeats.

Noah laughs a little, and Nursey’s stomach maybe flips. Just a little. “Yeah, I gathered. You’re not in a hurry though, right? We could sit and chat for a little while, maybe catch up. I’ve missed you,” he admits.

There's a number of things Nursey should say in response to that. “Yeah, well, you should’ve thought about that before you cheated on me,” is a great place to start. “Fuck you” would've been even more efficient.

But instead, he says, “Yeah?”

Noah smiles again. “Yeah, D, of course.” And he opens his arms up for a hug.

And Nursey knows he shouldn’t. He really, really does. But he steps into Noah’s arms and hugs him back.

“What’s happening now?” Holster asks from the mini-van.

Dex’s eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. “They’re...hugging?”

“What?” Chowder says, incredulous. “No way.”

“They’re definitely hugging,” Ransom nods.

Bitty grimaces. “Y’all. This is bad.”

“Should we — ”

“Wait,” Ransom says, cutting Chowder off. “They stopped.”

And they did. Because in the middle of their hug, on the front porch of Noah’s home, the front porch that _used_ to be Nursey’s, too, he happens to glance down and see a pot of wilting tulips.

Nursey blinks. “I told you to water the plants.”

Noah steps back from the hug, confused. “What?” Then his eyes follow Nursey’s gaze. “Oh, right.” He rubs the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “Sorry. I just forget to do those kinds of things. You know how I am.”

Nursey stares, then turns back to Noah. “I told you to water the plants,” he says again.

Noah raises his eyebrows. “It’s chill, Derek, they’re just — ”

“ _No_ ,” Nursey says, cutting Noah off. “It’s not fucking _chill._ What, you cheat on me and then don’t even bother to _water my plants?_ ”

Noah has the audacity to look surprised. “C’mon, Derek, can’t we just talk about this?”

“No. We can’t,” Nursey says, terse. “I have absolutely zero interest in ‘talking about this.’ So I’m gonna go get my stuff.”

And he marches past Noah and into the house.

“He’s in,” Dex reports from the mini-van.

“Thank God,” Bitty says with relief.

“Yo, he looked _pissed,_ ” Ransom comments. “Oh wait, he’s coming back out.”

Sure enough, Nursey is emerging from the house, arms full of suitcases, duffel bags, and, blissfully, a giant TV.

“Damn. That _is_ a nice TV,” Dex whistles. Then Nursey, arms overloaded with all of his stuff, wobbles a bit. “Oh shit.”

“Everybody out!” Bitty commands, and the five of them pile out of the car and into the yard. Ransom reaches Nursey first, quickly grabbing the TV before it topples out of Nursey’s grasp. (He has his priorities set, alright?)

“Wait,” Noah pleads as Nursey marches towards the car. “Do you really have to take the TV? Can’t we split custody on it, work out some kind of schedule?”

“I actually don’t ever want to talk to you again, so no,” Nursey says shortly, shoving his suitcases in the car.

“Hey, Nursey, do you have anymore stuff?” Chowder asks.

“‘Nursey’?” Noah repeats. “What — ”

“Yeah, it’s in the foyer,” Nursey tells Chowder, ignoring him.

“Alright, I’ll grab it for you. Bitty?”

“Coming,” Bitty says, and he and Chowder make their way back inside the house.

“Derek, c’mon,” Noah says. “Can’t we just...hash this out for a sec?”

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Nursey says, slamming the door to the van shut and turning around to face Noah. “I — ” His eyes widen suddenly. “That’s my cardigan.”

Noah glances down. The cardigan in question is navy blue, with a 'D.M.N.' embroidered over the front pocket. “No it’s not.”

“Yes it is,” Nursey says. “It has my initials on it.”

Noah crosses his arms over his chest as if to hide the initials, because he’s a child. “Yeah, well, you gave it to me, so it’s mine now.”

“Yeah, well, I want it back.”

“Is there a problem?” Ransom asks, striding over with Holster by his side. Dex, who's loading Nursey’s stuff in the car as Bitty and Chowder carry it out, watches with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah,” Nursey says. “He won’t give me back my cardigan.”

Ransom and Holster move to stand on either side of Nursey, crossing their arms in front of their chest in unison. “Give it back, man,” Holster says.

“No,” Noah says, glaring. “Derek, who even are these guys?”

“They’re my roommates. Now give me back the cardigan.”

“I don’t want to. If you gave it to me, I can keep it,” Noah insists. Then he glances down at a box lying near Nursey’s feet, and points to a snapback lying at the top. “And I gave him that hat, so I’m gonna keep that, too.”

“Oh, this one?” Holster says, reaching down and grabbing the hat. At this point, Bitty and Chowder have stopped bringing Nursey’s stuff out and now stand with Dex at the other end of the car, watching the scene cautiously.

“Yeah,” Noah says, eyes narrowed.

“You want it back?”

“ _Yeah_.”

Holster places the snapback on his head. “Then take it.”

Noah blinks.

Ransom grabs another item from the box, a red scarf Nursey knitted two winters ago, and wraps it around his neck. “You gonna take this, too?”

“Is this a thing?” Bitty hisses to Chowder and Dex. “Are we doing this?”

Chowder shrugs. “I guess so.” He reaches into the nearest box and drapes a heavy wool coat over his shoulders, while Bitty grabs a beanie and stuffs it on his head.

“You guys look ridiculous,” Dex mutters.

Chowder elbows him, and he and Bitty move to stand on either side of Ransom and Holster. Dex hangs back and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Why don’t you just give him back his cardigan?” Bitty says. It’s not a suggestion, and for a moment, Noah actually looks a little scared.

“Yeah, dude. His initials are right there. Why do you even want a cardigan with someone else’s initials on it?” Chowder asks.

“Yeah,” Ransom pipes up. “ _Loser._ ”

“It’s Ralph Lauren,” Noah says, defensive.

Ransom scoffs.

“Derek, do you seriously live with these people?” Noah demands. “Just move back in, stay here until you can find a better place to live.”

“You know what? _Noah_ , is it?” Holster says with a glower. “I don’t like you. You’re a jerk, you know that? Also, you smell kinda weird. And — ”

“Holster,” Nursey says, putting a hand on Holster’s shoulder. “I got this.” Then he turns back to Noah. “I don’t need to move back in with you. I have a place to live. And this is over.”

And he does, Nursey realizes. He can do this because he has five former hockey players who are weird, and loud, and obnoxious, but willing to let a stranger move into their home and help him stand up to his shitty ex-boyfriend without a second thought. Even  _ Dex  _ is looking at Noah like he wouldn’t mind punching him in the face.

“I don’t need to move back in with you. I have a place to live,” Nursey tells Noah. “And this is over.”

Noah stares, stunned.

“For the longest time, I felt like you cheated on me because _I’d_ done something wrong. Like maybe if I’d been a better boyfriend, we’d still be together.” Nursey inhales. “But now I realize that was total bullshit.”

“Derek — ”

“And sure, maybe I _was_ scared to move out and start over. And yeah, I’m living with five guys I met on the internet. But you know what? I love these guys.”

Dex blinks, almost surprised. Bitty smiles. Chowder leans over and pats Nursey on the arm.

“Sure, they’re all kinda really weird. And really loud. And that one kinda hates me,” Nursey adds, pointing to Dex.

Dex shrugs. “It’s true.”

“But, I love them.” Nursey finishes. “So.”

“Yeah. He loves us,” Ransom repeats for emphasis.

“Take that, dick,” Holster adds.

Then Dex takes a deep breath, grabs a red beret from the nearest box — seriously, why does Nursey have this? — and steps up with the rest of his friends, stuffing the hat on top of his head. “Give him back the cardigan, man.”

Nursey feels himself grin.

Noah looks between the six guys in front of him, almost cautious. “And what if I don’t?”

Chowder, who apparently still has some Goalie left in him, takes a threatening step forward.

“Alright, alright!” Noah says, ripping the cardigan off and thrusting it into Nursey’s hands. “Jesus, it’s just a fucking cardigan.”

Dex, Chowder, Ransom, Holster, and Bitty send one last glare in Noah’s direction before continuing to load Nursey’s stuff into the car, and Nursey turns to go.

“I thought we could handle this like adults, Derek,” Noah says, almost disappointedly, stopping Nursey in his tracks.

“Yeah, well.” Nursey shrugs. “I thought you were the love of my life.”

Then he flings the cardigan over his shoulder, closes the door to the trunk, and climbs into the driver’s seat.

\--

“So, let me get this straight,” Lardo says from behind the bar later that night, after the six have finished recounting their story. Shitty stands next to her, a towel over his shoulder, amused. “This douchebag was actually intimidated by six guys in their late twenties wearing random objects of clothing?”

“Hey!” Holster pouts. “When you say it like that it makes it sound less badass.”

Lardo raises an eyebrow, doubtful. “How badass can you be wearing a beret?”

Dex scoffs, offended. “Uh, I’ll have you know I was _extremely_ badass, thank you very much.”

Shitty laughs, and Lardo rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’m assuming you guys are gonna want another round?” She asks.

“ _Lards,_ ” Ransom says. “We are celebrating a _victory._ ”

Lardo rolls her eyes and begins filling their cups.

Nursey, who has been pretty quiet so far, still trying to process and sort of embarrassed by all the attention, nods emphatically now. “Hell yeah, we are. We’re celebrating you guys because you’re all super awesome…” At this, everyone cheers. “...But most importantly, we’re celebrating _me_ , because I was an _adult_ and got closure on my shitty relationship _and_ got my stuff back.”

“Well, I wouldn’t quite use the word _adult…_ ” Bitty says.

“And,” Nursey goes on, pretending he hasn’t heard him. “I got us a new TV!”

Chowder raises his cup. “TO OUR NEW TV!”

Everyone cheers and clinks their cups together.

Lardo leans back against the bar and turns to Shitty. “You ever think they’ll learn to come into our bar and actually use inside voices?”

Shitty waves a hand. “Eh, let them have their fun.”

\--

It's been a weird day, Bitty thinks. He quit his job, found out his neighbor _has_ , in fact, noticed all the dirty looks he's not-so-subtly sent him for the last few years, and he successfully intimated his roommate's ex while wearing a tacky beanie.

But despite all that, Bitty feels...well, really happy, actually. Probably because all of his friends look so happy. Especially Nursey, who wears a quiet sort of smile every time he thinks no one's looking. And despite the fact that Bitty has only known Nursey for a little over a week, he's sort of really proud of him.

He’s just beginning to convince himself to use all of these warm and fuzzy feelings as justification to get a third beer, when he spots a familiar figure on the other side of the bar.

He glances at his friends, who are listening to Holster recount the “moving their three hot neighbors’ stuff” adventure from earlier that morning, and slips out of his chair and travels over to the other side of the bar, sliding into an empty seat next to Jack Zimmermann.

“You know, if you were trying not to be recognized as the captain of the Falconers, you might not should’ve worn a Falconers hat.”

Jack freezes, surprised, and looks over. He relaxes just a bit when he sees it’s only Bitty. “Oh, hey, Eric.”

“You can call me Bitty.” He shrugs. “Most people do.”

“Sure, okay. Bitty.” He says it like he’s testing it out, and Bitty tries to tries not to flush over something as ridiculous as Jack simply saying his name.

“So, do you come to this bar a lot?” Bitty asks, purposefully wording the question so that it does _not_ come across as a pick-up line.

“Sometimes.”

“I’ve never seen you,” Bitty says.

“My disguise is usually better,” Jack grins. Bitty snorts. “I don’t actually drink that much, but I know the owners, so. Sometimes I just come here for a change of pace.”

“Wait.” Bitty raises his eyebrows. “ _You_ know Shitty and Lardo?”

“Well, sorta,” Jack says. “One time Shitty was drunk and was trying to get into his own apartment but I guess he got mixed up so I found him trying to break into my apartment in the middle of the night. Which, obviously, sorta freaked me out. But he was really apologetic about it. He actually sent me a fruit basket, so. That’s how we know each other.”

“Oh, so Shitty sends you a fruit basket and you’re all nice and polite, but I bake you a whole pie and barely get two words?” Bitty asks. Jack looks absolutely stricken. When he tries to stammer out an apology, Bitty just laughs. “Jack, relax, I was just kidding.”

“Oh,” Jack says, then smiles, looking a little relieved. “Haha.”

Yes, Jack Zimmermann says ‘haha.’ Out loud. Bitty absolutely does _not_ find it cute.

“Look,” Bitty says, and shifts a little in his seat. “I just wanted to apologize to you, for bein’ so rude. It was unneighborly. I mean, my Mama would kill me if she found out.”

Jack chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s fine. Like I said, I was kind of rude to you, too.”

“But you liked the pie?”

“The pie was great,” Jack reassures him.

Bitty smiles. “Good.”

Jack opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off by a loud sound across the bar. Bitty turns, and sure enough, it’s Holster, who’s probably laughing at another one of Ransom’s lame jokes.

Bitty cringes and turns back to Jack. “That would be my roommate,” he says, and slides from his seat. “Who I should probably go take care of.”

“Probably.”

“But, hey,” Bitty adds, before he can lose his nerve. “If you ever want some more pie, just let me know.”

Jack raises his eyebrows. “Pretty sure that goes against my diet regimen.”

“Yeah, but you’re the captain, remember?” Bitty says. “You can do whatever you want.”

“Haha,” Jack says again, and seriously, what is up with that? “I don’t think that’s how it works.” Then he adds, “But I’ll definitely turn to you for any emergency pie services.”

Pleased, Bitty says, “Good,” and then turns and heads back to his roommates.

\--

Nursey stops drinking after a little while, but that doesn’t mean the rest of his roommates do the same. Chowder, a total lightweight, starts looking flushed after his second beer, he’s lost count of how much Ransom and Holster have drank — though if the volume of Holster’s voice is any indication, it’s quite a lot — and he has no idea where Bitty has gone off to.

In fact, the only one of his roommates who doesn’t look completely drunk is Dex, who's still sitting at the bar, quietly sipping what must only be his first beer.

Nursey takes a deep breath and walks over, sliding into the empty seat next to him. “Hey.”

Dex looks over. “Hey.”

“I just wanna say thanks,” he says. “For today.”

“Sure,” Dex says, and sort of makes a face. Nursey gets the idea that he’s not too into talking about feelings. “I mean, it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Yeah, well, it was a big deal to me,” Nursey admits. “I mean, that everyone stood up for me, not just you, but I’m thanking you specifically because you hate me.”

To Nursey’s surprise, Dex snorts, then takes a swig of his beer. “Look,” he says. “I don’t hate you, okay?” Nursey looks at him dubiously. “I mean, I do a little bit. But it’s only because you get on my nerves. And I’m trying to get over it.”

Nursey rolls his eyes. “Fair enough.”

“And I am sorry,” Dex adds. “About our fight.”

Nursey frowns. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“You were right, though,” Dex says. “I can be close-minded, and I did assume shit about you that I probably shouldn’t have.”

Nursey hopes he doesn’t look as shocked as he feels. He honestly hadn’t expected Dex to bring up what was said during their fight, much less admit that Nursey had been right.

“I mean, I _am_ working on it,” Dex clarifies. “And you can ask the guys, I was _way_ worse at the beginning of college. But I come from a really small, really conservative, and really white town in Maine, so I’ve had to spend a lot of time unlearning some problematic shit. Which definitely isn’t an excuse or anything,” he adds quickly. Nursey nods. “And I _do_ try to look at things from other people’s points of view, and I’ve definitely gotten better about it, but, you know. I could work on it more. So getting called out on my shit is kinda hard to hear, but sorta necessary, I guess.”

“That’s fair,” Nursey admits. “Not everybody comes out of the womb woke as hell.” Dex snorts again. “I mean, you were right about me, too. Sometimes I forget that not everyone can...I don’t know. Afford the same luxuries I’ve been able to. Which is probably a habit I should let go of, seeing as I’m living on a teacher’s salary.”

Dex laughs. “Yeah, probably.”

“But, listen. Just because I’ve been pretty well-off financially doesn’t mean I’ve just skated through life or whatever. Like, I have two moms, and I’m black.”

Dex grimaces. “Yeah. I guess that was kinda stupid.”

“Kinda,” Nursey agrees, not unkindly.

“Why don’t we just start over?” Dex suggests. “Maybe try to become friends? It might be nice to not kinda hate my roommate.”

“Okay,” Nursey agrees. “How about we both stop making assumptions about each other, and then I’ll try to stop leaving my shit everywhere if you stop screaming at me and losing your mind every time I open my mouth.”

“I do not _lose my mind._ ”

Nursey levels him with a look. “Dex. Come on.”

Dex sighs. “Okay, fine. I’ll agree to these terms _only_ if you stop saying ‘chill’ so much.”

“But Dex. That’s my _brand._ ”

“Nursey.”

“Okay, okay,” Nursey relents. “I’ll stop telling _you_ to chill so much, how about that?”

Dex sighs, but begrudgingly says, “Fine.”

“Ch — ” Dex sends Nursey a look. “I mean, cool. So, are we friends?”

Dex rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. “Yeah, Nurse. We’re friends.”

Nursey grins, too.

“By the way,” Dex adds. “If you ever need to talk to someone about, like, your shitty ex...my ex-boyfriend and I had a really rough break-up, so. I can relate.”

Nursey raises his eyebrows. “Did you just come out to me as a way to subtly let it slip that you’re not _that_ problematic?”

Dex looks at Nursey sheepishly. “How did I do?”

“Not bad, actually,” Nursey admits.

Dex laughs.

\--

“So...the meeting’s at what time again?” Bully asks.

Nursey rolls his eyes, even though he’s on the phone and knows Bully can’t actually see him. “Dude, do you ever actually _read_ your emails?”

“I’m a busy guy,” Bully says, defensive.

“Too busy to read a — ”

“Nursey!” Ransom shouts from over on the sofa. “Don’t forget to add extra butter!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nursey calls back, dumping the package of freshly popped popcorn into a large bowl.

“Who was that?” Bully asks from the other line.

“Roommate,” Nursey explains as he sticks a cup of butter in the microwave to melt.

“Oh,” Bully says. “How’s that going, anyway?”

Nursey glances over his shoulder, where his roommates plus Shitty and Lardo are gathered on the couch, arguing over what to watch on Netflix on their brand new TV.

Well. The TV is new to _them,_ at least.

“I am _not_ watching another rom-com,” Nursey hears Dex insist.

“Oh, don’t front,” Chowder says. “We all know you were just pretending to hate _To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before._ ”

Holster places a hand over his heart, faking a swoon. “Peter Kavinsky, the love of my life.”

Ransom gives Holster a look. “Dude, you’re twenty-eight.”

“So?!”

“Derek?” Bully says.

Nursey tears his eyes away from his five ridiculous roommates and their two neighbors who spent more time in Nursey’s apartment than they do in their own.

“Honestly?” Nursey says. “It’s going really, really good.”


	2. Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the gang goes to a wedding, Holster wonders if he should ask April to be his date and Dex recruits Nursey to be his fake date. Meanwhile, Ransom worries about how Bitty will handle being unemployed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who left kudos and it made me smile every time I read one of you guys' comments!
> 
> Also, to everyone who said they were enjoying the fic even though they’d never seen New Girl: thank you so much but please do yourself a favor and watch New Girl, one of the best shows of all time
> 
> If you wanted to listen to something while you read, check out the playlist I made for this fic: https://open.spotify.com/user/gracemcgready/playlist/3p1LgJ0P3SCtBUut5Px4pJ?si=NX-dQ59MRUaT-2jz4R4NGA

It’s been almost a month since Chowder helped Caitlin and her roommates move in, and Chowder hasn’t actually seen Caitlin since then.

It’s not from lack of effort — on either of their parts. The truth is, they’re both incredibly busy. Chowder has work (he’s an IT consultant at the company he and Dex have worked at for the last three or so years) and his friends’ shenanigans (Lardo’s art show, Nursey’s class’ school play, Shitty’s “Guy’s Night” at the bar). And Caitlin has a lot going on, too — she works demanding hours as a vet, still plays volleyball on a rec league, and helps March out with feminist book club, which meets once a week.

It goes without saying that she’s got a lot on her plate.

But Chowder would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed about never seeing her, aside from exchanging hellos when they pass each other in the hall or exchanging a few texts every now and then. (The last time she texted him was about a week ago, when she’d said, “Uh, did you forget to mention that JACK ZIMMERMANN is our neighbor?!”)

Especially because Chowder _really_ likes Caitlin. He thought Caitlin really liked him, too, only it’s been so long since they’ve had a real, honest-to-God interaction that he’s started to second-guess himself and wonder if the connection he’d felt that day was real or something he just sort of made up.

He’s just stepping into the elevator in his building and thinking about texting Caitlin to ease his insecurities when the doors _ding_ open and Caitlin Farmer, in the flesh, steps inside.

“Chris!” Caitlin says, looking surprised, but her face lights up instantly when she sees him.

“Cait, hi!” Chowder says, and his grin is maybe a little too wide. “Going up?”

Caitlin nods and steps inside the elevator next to him. “So, how have you been?”

“Good!” Chowder answers. He hesitates, then adds, “I was actually just about to text you.”

“Yeah? About what?”

“Just to say hi. And see if you or your roommates wanted to hang out Friday night.” He shoots her a hopeful smile. “We’re going to the bar. Plus I’m sure Holster would be thrilled if April came.”

Holster and April have been talking ever since the day they helped the girls move in, and they went on their first date about a week ago — they’d gone bowling and then went out for pizza afterwards, like they were characters in some sort of cheesy 80’s rom-com. The date is pretty much all Holster’s talked about since.

“Maybe don’t tell April that,” Chowder realizes out loud.

Caitlin laughs. “His secret’s safe with me,” she assures him. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. I’m on call that night.” She makes a face.

“Oh,” Chowder says, and tries not to frown. “That’s okay. Maybe some other time?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Caitlin nods. Then, “I really hope you don’t think I’m just coming up with excuses so I don’t have to hang out with you.”

Admittedly, the thought’s crossed his mind, but hearing Caitlin actually say it out loud makes the idea sound ridiculous. “No, of course not!”

“Okay, good.” She looks relieved. “I actually — ”

And then the elevator lurches to a stop with a large shudder.

“Shit,” Caitlin says. “Did the elevator just break?”

Chowder lets out a long sigh. “Yeah. This is the second time this has happened to me this year.”

Caitlin looks incredulous. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. This building kinda sucks.”

Caitlin groans. “I’m gonna call April,” she says, and pulls out her phone, which is a good idea, actually, so Chowder pulls out his phone to call Dex, making sure to hit the emergency button in the elevator first.

“I’m stuck in the elevator,” Chowder says once Dex has picked up.

“Again?”

“Yep.”

“Dude,” Dex says. “Why is this something that only ever happens to you?”

“I wish I knew,” Chowder sighs. “Anyway, I pressed the emergency button, but if I’m not back in thirty minutes, maybe tell the front desk?”

“Yeah, sure. You in there by yourself?”

“No,” Chowder says, and wills himself not to blush. “Caitlin’s here, too.”

Dex laughs out loud at that.

“Who are you talking to?” Chowder hears Nursey ask, voice muffled through the line.

“Chowder,” Dex tells Nursey. “He’s stuck in the elevator with Caitlin.”

“Yooooo,” Nursey says, voice louder now, as if Dex passed the phone to him. “Now’s your chance, C! Ask her out!”

“ _Goodbye_ , Dex,” Chowder says, now definitely blushing. Dex and Nursey both laugh and Chowder presses “End Call.”

Honestly, he should’ve called Bitty.

He looks over at Caitlin, who’s awkwardly fiddling with her phone. “Uh, how long does it usually take to get the elevator working again?”

“Usually no more than thirty minutes,” Chowder says, then huffs out a laugh. “When this is a problem that happens about once a week, you get pretty good at fixing it quickly.”

Caitlin snorts. “Makes sense.” She slides to the floor, crossing her legs and leaning against the wall. Chowder follows suit not long after. “I hope you didn’t have anything you needed to get to quickly.”

“Nope,” Chowder says. “You?”

“Just my DVR,” Caitlin says with a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ve, uh, been trying to catch up on the last season of _The Bachelorette?_ ”

Chowder’s eyes widen. “Cait. I _love The Bachelorette._ ”

“No way!”

“Holster, Bitty, and I _obsess_ over it,” Chowder declares. “And everyone else thinks we’re lame but it’s so addicting.”

“Yes!” Caitlin agrees enthusiastically. “March and I are the same way! April _constantly_ makes fun of us.”

“They just don’t recognize quality entertainment,” Chowder says, shaking his head, and Caitlin grins.

The two of them talk about a lot of things while they wait for the elevator to be fixed — their obsession with pizza (particularly pineapple, the superior flavor), their favorite sitcoms (the best is _Parks and Rec_ , though they both agree that _The Good Place_ is also pretty awesome), and of course, their love for the Sharks.

It sounds crazy, and also incredibly cheesy and cliche, but while he’s talking to Caitlin, Chowder almost forgets they’re stuck in an elevator in their shitty apartment building.

“You know what’s funny?” Caitlin says at one point, after Chowder has just finished recounting a story about how Holster once got stuck in a dog crate at PetSmart.

“What?”

Caitlin looks over at him and smiles almost shyly. “I’ve kinda always wanted to be in a meet-cute.”

Chowder feels himself flush. “You think this is a meet-cute?”

“I mean, it certainly _feels_ like one.”

Chowder flushes even further. “I don’t know if it counts, though. Since technically we’ve already met.”

Caitlin shrugs and tilts her head back, looking up at the ceiling. “Well. Close enough.”

Before Chowder can say anything else — though he doesn’t know what he would say, because seriously, where did Caitlin learn to be so smooth? — the elevator whirrs to life and begins its ascent again. Mere seconds later, the doors slide open to reveal their floor.

Chowder and Caitlin immediately scramble to their feet and out into the hallway, as if the doors will slam shut and trap them again if they’re not quick enough. But once they’re in the safety of their hall, Caitlin laughs and turns to him. “Honestly, that was kind of fun.”

“Yeah, weirdly enough, it was,” Chowder agrees. For a second, it looks like Caitlin’s going to say goodbye and head back to her own apartment until he blurts out, “Hey, I know you said you were busy this weekend...but you wouldn’t happen to have plans next weekend, would you?”

Caitlin pauses. “Actually, I don’t.”

“Oh,” Chowder says, half-surprised. “That’s — I mean, that’s great. Would you...maybe want to hang out?”

“Just the two of us?”

“Yeah,” Chowder says, hopeful and suddenly a little nervous. “I mean, if you want.”

The corner of Caitlin’s mouth pulls up in a smile. “Yeah. That sounds great.”

“‘Swawesome,” Chowder says, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. “I’ll text you?”

“You’d better,” Caitlin says, and turns to head towards her apartment. Her smile is huge and adorably endearing. “Have a good night, Chris.”

Chowder, who is already having a _great_ night, replies, “You, too, Cait,” and heads off to his own apartment.

He waits to do a dorky fist-bump until the door is closed all the way.

\--

Nursey’s been living in the loft for about a month when he realizes he’s actually...really happy there.

Sure, his roommates are still just as weird, but Nursey’s a little weird, too. And after a month of adjusting to all of their quirks — Ransom’s unhealthily large collection of salmon-colored shorts, Bitty’s constant baking, Holster’s general inability to control the volume of his voice — he doesn’t even so much as notice them, anymore.

Nursey really loves spending time with his roommates, if he’s being honest. He loves overhearing their chatter every morning before he heads to the school, loves coming home to them and getting to vent about whatever student or PTA parent pissed him off that day, and loves hanging out with them, Shitty, and Lardo at the bar every weekend.

Nursey even loves spending time with _Dex_ , something he wouldn’t have predicted after first moving in. Dex is definitely still a bit of an asshole, and they still bicker — something Nursey isn’t sure will ever change — but after that one conversation at the bar, they’ve both made an effort not to be so hostile to one another, and so far, they’ve actually been getting along pretty well.

So, when Dex tells Nursey he needs a favor over breakfast on Friday morning, Nursey doesn’t even hesitate before saying, “Sure, what is it?”

He and the rest of his roommates are sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee or eating cereal or oatmeal before they go their separate ways and leave for work. Roomfriend Breakfast, as Nursey has taken to calling it, doesn’t happen every single morning, of course — Nursey is almost always running late — but it happens pretty frequently, and he’s found it’s something he looks forward to every week.

“So, you know how we have that wedding tomorrow night?” Dex says.

“Yeah,” Nursey nods. “Someone from your hockey team, right?”

“Two people from the hockey team, actually,” Dex explains. “Ollie and Wicks.”

“Honestly, I had no idea they were even _dating_ ,” Ransom pipes up, chewing on a banana. Holster, who hates bananas and will tell this to anyone who will listen, looks at him with disgust.

“Oh, I totally knew,” Chowder declares. “Their bed was _right above_ my room when they lived in the attic their senior year. My ceiling was shaking a _lot._ ”

Nursey glances around the table. “Was _anyone_ on your hockey team straight?”

“Nope,” Bitty says, sipping his coffee.

“I was like, the straightest person on the team,” Chowder adds. “And even I’m not sure I’m 100%, you know?”

“ _Anyway_ , back on subject,” Dex continues, shooting the rest of their roomates a look. Then he suddenly looks nervous and fidgets. “Uh, about the favor — ”

“He needs you to be his date for the wedding,” Holster cuts in.

Nursey pauses, a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth. “What? Why?”

“Because his ex is gonna be there,” Ransom explains with an eye-roll.

“It was their idea,” Dex tells Nursey.

“Ha. Dex’s ex,” Nursey says with a snort, and Dex rolls his eyes. “So, what? You need me to do the whole fake-date thing so you can pretend like you’ve moved on and you’re happy with your life?”

“I mean, you didn’t have to say it like that…” Dex grumbles.

“Chill, man, I got your back,” Nursey says with confidence. “I’m gonna be the best fake boyfriend you’ve ever had. I took drama in college and I don’t wanna brag, but I was pretty hashtag amazing at it.”

Dex lets out a long sigh. “Of course you were.”

“I’m actually kind of glad you invited me,” Nursey admits. “My only plans for Saturday were to knock out some novel writing, but I kinda wasn’t looking forward to being alone in the apartment all night. Also, I sort of really love weddings? They’re fun, and romantic, and there’s alcohol. And I do a pretty mean chicken dance, if I say so myself.”

Dex narrows his eyes. “You are _not_ doing the chicken dance.”

Nursey makes a face. “Fine,” he grumbles. “Are you guys taking dates, too?” He asks the rest of his roommates.

Holster mumbles incomprehensibly, and Nursey raises his eyebrows.

“He doesn’t know yet,” Ransom translates.

“Holster, just _ask_ her,” Bitty says, exasperated.

“But isn’t that sort of weird?” Holster asks. “I mean, April and I have only been on _one_ date. Granted, it was an amazing date, but…”

Nursey frowns, because honestly, the whole Holster-and-April relationship had confused him at first. Mainly because when he’d first moved in, he’d been utterly convinced that Holster and _Ransom_ were dating.

He figured out he was mistaken not long after — the room the two share together has a bunk bed in it, and when Nursey had asked Chowder about it, he’d just laughed at him. So Holster’s relationship with April isn’t as confusing anymore, except for Nursey isn’t quite sure why Holster seems so reluctant when it comes to making strides in said relationship.

“Holster, I promise this isn’t as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be.” Chowder shakes his head.

“But what if she wants to take things slow?”

“Did she _say_ she wanted to take things slow?” Bitty asks.

“Well, no, but — ”

“Then _ask her_ , Holster!” Bitty says, then shoves his chair away from the table and stands. “Look, I’m gonna head to the store before all the suburban stay-at-home moms get there. We’re almost out of eggs and flour. Y’all need anything?”

“Nah, we’re good,” Dex calls.

“Okay,” Bitty says, grabbing his keys and his wallet. “See y’all later.”

As soon as the door is shut, Ransom turns to everyone else. “Hey. Is anyone else getting a little worried about Bitty?”

“Why would be worried about Bitty?” Chowder asks through a mouthful of pancakes.

“I just feel like the unemployed life is getting to his head,” Ransom says. “He’s baked like, two pies this morning. It’s not even 8 am.”

“That’s just Bitty,” Dex insists. “He’s just taking advantage of all this newfound free time.”

Ransom frowns. “It looks more like stress-baking to me.”

“I’m sure he’s just passing the time while job-hunting.” Holster shrugs. “He’ll be fine.”

But Ransom looks dubious. Still, he takes a sip of his coffee and says, “Whatever you say.”

\--

“So, we should probably come up with a background story, right?” Nursey says as he and Dex make their way to their seats. Ollie and Wicks’ wedding had been an hour’s drive from the apartment, and the ceremony is held in the garden outside of a hotel owned by the Hilton or maybe some other hotel company Nursey's moms probably have a rewards card with. The after-party, which Nursey is personally most looking forward to, is located in one of the hotel’s ballrooms.

“Hm?” Dex asks, sounding distracted as his eyes scan the crowd. There’s a possibility he’s looking for some of his fellow alumni, but Nursey thinks he knows better.

“You know, in case what’s-his-name asks how we got together,” Nursey says, finally spotting a row of empty seats and ushering Dex towards them.

“Liam,” Dex reminds him as the two of them sit down. “And can’t we just say we met when you moved in, fell in love, the rest is history, yada-yada?”

“Oh, we’re _in love_ now, are we?” Nursey asks with a smirk. Dex flushes and grumbles. “And no, Dex, we can’t. Where’s your sense of imagination?”

“I don’t have a — oh shit,” Dex says, eyes suddenly widening as he spots something over Nursey’s shoulder. “That’s him.”

Nursey looks over. A tall, muscular guy in his mid-twenties is walking down the middle of the aisle, wearing a navy blue suit and a bow-tie. “Shit, Dex. You never said he was hot.”

“Not helping,” Dex hisses.

Nursey turns back to him. “Relax,” he says, and instantly launches into Fake Couple Mode, draping an arm across Dex’s shoulder. “Now laugh like I said something funny.”

Dex immediately produces the most forced sounding laughter ever heard.

“God, you’re terrible at this,” Nursey mutters.

“Will?” The ex, Liam, has materialized right in front of the two of them. He looks hesitant, and maybe a little surprised to see Dex. He doesn’t look at Nursey at all.

“Oh, hey, Liam,” Dex says, looking at him with false surprise. _Better,_ Nursey thinks to himself. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here.”

“Yeah, Ollie invited me,” Liam says. “I — ”

“Will, honey,” Nursey says in a sing-song voice. He leans even closer to Dex. “Aren’t you gonna introduce me?”

Dex blinks, as if suddenly remembering Nursey’s there. “Right, yeah. Liam, this is my boyfriend, Derek.”

“Oh,” Liam says, meeting Nursey’s eyes. A complicated look crosses his face, but Nursey’s pretty sure he spots jealousy. Nursey smiles, hoping it doesn’t come across as _too_ smug. “I, uh, didn’t know you were dating anyone.”

Dex shrugs, casual. Okay, he’s _definitely_ getting better at this.

“How did you two meet?” Liam asks.

“Well, we — ”

“Oh, it’s actually a great story,” Nursey says, cutting Dex off. He slides his hand into Dex’s and intertwines their fingers for good measure. “We just happened to be at the same party a few months ago when I spilled a drink on this one’s shirt.” He makes a sheepish face. “I’m a bit of a klutz. But I looked up into Will’s eyes to apologize and I just knew automatically that he was the one for me.” He shrugs and shoots Liam a bashful smile.

In his head, Nursey's already preparing his Oscar speech.

Liam clears his throat. “That’s great,” he says, though he doesn’t sound very certain.

“ _Super_ great,” Nursey agrees. “We’re still in the honeymoon stage. I barely sleep. So much doing it, you know?”

Dex chokes.

“Uh, I — ” Liam stammers. Suddenly Nursey hears the first few notes of the Wedding March, signaling the start of the ceremony. Liam shifts awkwardly. “I should probably go find my seat. But I’ll talk to you later?” He looks over at Dex.

“Yeah, sure,” Dex says, and gives Liam a small grin.

“Okay.” Liam replies with a similar grin of his own. “See you.” Then he makes his way to his own chair.

As soon as Liam’s gone, Dex turns to Nursey with a look of disbelief. “Dude. That was amazing.”

“You’re welcome,” Nursey sing-songs, pulling his hand out of Dex’s and sliding away.

“How did you even do that?” Dex looks awe-struck. “I mean, the drink spilling story?”

Nursey shrugs. “It’s a gift.” Dex snorts and shakes his head. “Did you see the way he looked at you, though? Dude was mad jealous.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, definitely,” Nursey says. “Am I the best fake boyfriend or what?” Dex opens his mouth to respond, but Nursey quickly cuts him off. “Wait, he’s looking this way. Pretend we’re in love again.”

Dex immediately drapes his arm over Nursey, who inches closer to Dex and pretends to laugh at something he’s saying. Liam stares at them for a long moment before finally looking away.

“Yep,” Nursey announces, and leans out of Dex’s space once the coast is clear. “He’s totally jealous.”

“Huh,” Dex says, and smiles a little to himself.

\--

“I love weddings,” Holster announces after the ceremony as he and Ransom make their way indoors for the reception.

“I know you do, Holtzy,” Ransom says with a fond smile.

“They’re just so great, you know?” Holster continues. “Like, love is awesome.”

Ransom rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing.

The two of them are alone, having gotten separated from the group after the ceremony. They’d all sat in the same row for the wedding, of course — Shitty and Lardo included, though they’d almost been late — but Holster isn’t sure where his friends are now. Probably still mingling with the other guests outside, he supposes. Instead, Holster and Ransom had opted to go inside, where the most important part of the wedding could be found, which Holster immediately spots at the other side of the room.

“You know what else is awesome?” Holster asks.

Ransom must have followed Holster’s line of sight, or maybe he hadn’t, and he just knows Holster, because he guesses, “Free bar?”

“Hell yeah,” Holster says, and swerves directions towards the bar, only stopping when he realizes he’s walking alone. He turns back to see Ransom still standing by the entryway. “You coming?”

“Nah,” he says. “I think I’m gonna keep an eye on Bitty.”

Holster looks across the room to see Bitty sitting at the other side of the bar, drinking and not-so-subtly trying to hit on the bartender. “Ransom. Bitty is _fine._ He’s having the time of his unemployed life.”

“Are you kidding?” Ransom raises his eyebrows. “He’s drinking _cranberry vodka_.”

“So? It’s a wedding.”

“He’s gonna crack, bro,” Ransom insists. “And since I’m apparently the only one here who can spot the signs of a broken man, it’s my job to be the Supportive Friend.”

Holster rolls his eyes. “Whatever, man. I’m getting alcohol.”

And with that, he marches over to the bar and asks for a beer. While he waits, he scans the room, looking for his friends or for any other alumni to stop and say hi to, when suddenly everyone bursts into cheers as Ollie and Wicks enter the room, hand-in-hand.

Holster is just beginning to make his way over and congratulate the newly-wedded couple — and, seriously, Ransom is right, when did they even get together? — when he spots a girl with straight dark hair chopped into a bob and hesitates.

 _Surely that’s not…_ Holster thinks to himself, when the girl turns around and sure enough, it’s April.

“Shit,” he says, and immediately ducks.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

Holster glances up at the table next to him to see Chowder looking down with a frown on his face.

“Oh, Chowder, thank God,” Holster says with a sigh. “April is here.”

“Okay…” Chowder says, brows furrowed. “And you’re hiding on the floor because?”

“Because, if she sees me here she’ll wonder why I didn’t ask her to be my date,” Holster hisses. Then he’s struck with a sudden horrifying thought. “Oh no. What if _she_ brought a date?”

“If only this entire situation could’ve been avoided by you just _asking_ her to be your date in the first place…” Chowder says, sounding far too innocent.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in, C.”

“Hey, Chowder,” says Nursey, approaching Chowder’s table. He pauses when he spots Holster. “Uh...why is he on the floor?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Nursey, hey,” Holster hisses. “Is April still over there talking to Ollie and Wicks?”

“April’s here?”

“ _Just answer the question!_ ”

“Okay, okay,” Nursey says, then squints across the room. “Uh, no. I don’t see her anywhere.”

“Whew,” Holster says, then he lifts himself off the floor and into a seat.

Nursey looks at Chowder, perplexed.

“Again, don’t ask.”

Nursey shrugs. “That was an...interesting ceremony,” he says as he slides into the seat to the left of Chowder. “Doing a fist-bump instead of a kiss at the end was...a bold choice.”

“Pretty on par for them, though,” Chowder says.

“By the way, which one is Ollie and which one is Wicks?”

“Dude, who knows?” Holster shrugs. Nursey frowns. “Hey, where’s Dex?”

“Probably off with Liam.”

Chowder freezes. “What?”

“Yeah, he got _super_ jealous when he found out Dex was ‘dating’ someone,” Nursey says, using air quotes. “I gotta say, I am _nailing_ this whole — ”

“Nursey,” Holster interrupts. “You are literally the _worst_ fake boyfriend ever.”

“What are you talking about?” Nursey demands. “I thought that was the whole point of — ”

“The _point_ was for you to keep Dex _away_ from Liam, not get them _together!_ ” Chowder hisses, sounding horrified.

“Why?” Nursey asks.

Holster looks over at Chowder. After all, Chowder is Dex’s best friend, not him.

Chowder sighs. “Look, Dex would kill me if he knew I told you this,” he says. “But he and Liam dated for like, two years, and broke up over a year ago, and Dex was really upset after the breakup.”

“Upset?” Nursey looks doubtful.

“No, seriously,” Holster insists. “He was a mess.”

“Like, didn’t leave the apartment for weeks, constantly consuming alcohol, sending Liam drunk emails…” Chowder trails off.

“Emails?”

“Yes,” Chowder says flatly. “Emails.”

“There were some calls, too,” Holster adds, just to be fair. “But it was mostly emails.”

Nursey whistles. In all honesty, there's a lot more that he and Chowder could tell Nursey, but the less Nursey knows, the better. Coming home from work every night to find Dex holed up in his room playing sad Dad Rock on repeat had been a weird time in Holster's life, but the time where Dex had actually been  _dating_ Liam had been just as weird. After every fight, Dex would come home and aggressively fix things around the apartment, shouting at anyone who tried to intervene. And Liam and Dex had fought a _lot._

Needless to say, it was a very stressful living environment.

But instead of disclosing all of this to Nursey, Chowder just sighs. “It’s just...Liam’s not that great of a guy. But Dex still took their break-up pretty hard, and honestly, I don't think he ever really moved on?”

“Which is why we needed _you_ to keep them apart, so he didn’t go crawling back to him,” Holster says. “So, thanks for that.”

“Look, I’m sorry, alright?” Nursey says, defensive. “I thought I was here to get Dex some dick!”

“It’s okay, Nursey. You didn’t know,” Chowder says gently. “But seriously? You’ve gotta fix it before the damage is done.”

“How?”

“Go find him!” Holster says. “Play up the boyfriend act! Do whatever you need to do. But you’ve _got_ to separate them. You ever heard a grown man sob and listen to Simon and Garfunkel?”

Nursey looks alarmed. “No…”

“Well, that’s gonna be your reality unless you go do something about it.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Nursey groans, but scrapes his chair back. “Fine, fine! I’m going!”

As soon as he’s gone, Holster turns to Chowder. “Think he’ll be able to handle damage control?”

But if Chowder is worried for Dex, he doesn’t show it. “Nope, we’re talking about your problems now.”

Holster sighs. “Chow, just because _your_ relationship is blooming doesn’t mean I need your advice.”

“Well, you were just hiding under a table a few minutes ago, so clearly you need _some_ sort of advice.”

Holster grumbles, but doesn’t disagree.

“Holster,” Chowder says, and his voice is gentle now, which almost makes it worse. “Why don’t you just go talk to her? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Holster hesitates, leaning back in his seat. He didn't exactly come to Ollie and Wicks' wedding with the intention of having a heart-to-heart with his roommate. “I just…I haven’t been in a relationship in a really long time, you know? And most of my relationships have just been me having an unrequited crush on someone who’s completely unattainable and forcing myself to move on when I realize there's no chance of that ever happening. Wait, do those count?” Chowder laughs and shakes his head no. “Yeah, so. Anyway. I’m scared that if I get myself out there I’ll find out I forgot how the whole relationship thing works and screw it up.” Chowder frowns and makes a sympathetic noise, and Holster shrugs. “I don’t know. Dating is scary.”

“Aw, Holster…” Chowder leans over and rustles Holster’s hair, a gesture that should be weird coming from someone two years younger than him, but instead is just comforting. “Look, it’s scary putting yourself out there. I get it. But you’ve already done the scary part. You went on the date. And it turned out really well, right?”

“Well, yeah…” Holster admits.

“I know you’re scared,” Chowder says. “But I also know that you really like her.”

“But what if she...I don’t know,” Holster hesitates. “What if she doesn’t like me or something?”

“You’re _Holster_. It’d be impossible not to like you.” Which, coming from the most likable person on the planet, is a pretty big compliment. “Besides, isn’t it better to at least _try_ instead of potentially missing out on something ‘swawesome?”

Holster sighs. “Probably,” he admits. “You know, you actually give _really_ good advice. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Chowder grins. “A few times.”

Holster laughs. “Yeah, okay,” he says. “Well. I guess I’m gonna go find her.”

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Chowder says encouragingly as Holster stands up. Holster gives him a salute and what he hopes is a smile that isn’t as nervous as he feels, and heads off to the bar. He’s not sure if that’s where April is, of course, but if he were at a wedding (which, well...he is) that’s where he’d be.

And maybe, possibly, he still wants that beer. Sue him.

\--

Dex can’t even remember the last time he saw Liam. Which is kinda weird, actually, because Liam doesn’t live that far away — driving to his house would take fifteen minutes, maybe even less. So it would make sense if Dex had run into Liam somewhere in the past year, like maybe the grocery store or the gas station.

But that never happened, despite all the times he maybe secretly wanted it to, and the last time Dex saw him was when he went over to Liam’s house to pick up his stuff after their break-up, which would’ve been over a year ago.

Sometimes Dex can’t believe it’s been that long. Other times, it feels like the break-up was centuries ago.

Regardless, it’s been nice catching up with Liam, though their break-up had been...well, not great. (Chowder would probably say that was an understatement). But after all the bitterness and anger and heartbreak Dex experienced afterwards, he’d evidently forgotten how easy Liam was to talk to, because he and Liam have been sitting together at a table near Ollie and Wicks’ photo booth for over an hour now.

And maybe, just  _maybe,_ Dex is starting to remember why he liked Liam so much in the first place. He’s smart, he has a great sense of humor, he’s still crazy attractive, and after all this time, Dex is ridiculously into him.

They’d been _great_ together, too. They fought, of course, because Dex fights with everyone, but the make-up sex afterwards had always been great. And despite it all, Dex felt like Liam understood him — understood that even though he could be guarded and maybe a bit of an asshole, he still cared.

Until Liam had dumped him out of the blue last March.

“This isn’t working,” Liam told him, on the night of their two-year anniversary, no less. He’d been so angry, too — fists clenched, barely able to look Dex in the eyes. “You never talk to me about how you’re feeling. What am I supposed to do, take a fucking guess?”

“People aren’t _supposed_ to talk about their feelings,” Dex said with gritted teeth, defensive. “If they were, they’d be called _talkings._ ”

They’d had a huge fight about it, and about everything else, until Liam had finally declared, “I can’t deal with you anymore, alright? We’re done.” Then he’d stormed out the door, and five seconds later, stormed back in and said, “I forgot this was my house.”

So Dex left, and has essentially spent every day since regretting everything he said and wishing he could take it all back. But by that point it was too late, and he and Liam were over.

But Dex doesn’t want to think about that right now — not when Liam is here, with his dimples and his infectious laugh, listening to Dex tell him what’s been going on in his life lately and actually looking interested, even though the short answer to the question is “absolutely nothing.”

But Dex’s story gets cut off when Liam suddenly leans forward and picks a piece of lint off of Dex’s suit.

“Sorry,” Liam tells him with a smile. Dex is frozen. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, just that piece of lint has been bothering me this whole time.”

And maybe Dex is reading into this. After all, it’s just a piece of lint. But he’s seen _The Crown_ , okay? (Ransom is obsessed with it, and maybe Dex thinks it’s a little entertaining. Whatever.) He knows what picking lint off of someone’s jacket means — he knows that it’s an inherently intimate gesture, an obvious way to indicate to someone that you’re into them.

And, if Dex is really thinking about it, Liam hasn’t done anything all night to make him think he’s _not_ interested in Dex. Ever since Nursey took a hint and made himself scarce about an hour ago, Liam has stayed pretty much glued to Dex’s side. And Dex saw Liam check him out during the ceremony. He’s not an idiot.

It occurs to Dex, suddenly, how easy it would be to lean over and kiss Liam right now. And why shouldn’t he? Their relationship didn’t work out the first time, but it’s been a year since then. Dex has grown a lot, he thinks, and he’d be ready to try again. And the way Liam just keeps grinning at him…

Dex begins to lean.

“ _WILLIAM POINDEXTER!_ ”

“Jesus — ” Dex reels back, and whips around. “Nursey?” He demands when he sees his roommate striding towards the two of them.

“Don’t you _Nursey_ me!” He cries, pointing an accusing finger at the both of them. “I _saw_ you! With  _him!_ ”

A couple of people at the table next to them are not so subtly eavesdropping. One of them snickers.

“Nursey,” Dex says through gritted teeth. “What are you — ”

“I _trusted_ you!” Nursey declares, in a voice that’s entirely too shrill for the room. “Are you _cheating_ on me?!”

“ _What?_ ” Dex demands, bewildered.

“AFTER EVERYTHING WE BUILT?!”

Dex is going to kill him. “Derek. Calm down. Nothing happened.”

“ _I know what I saw!_ ”

“No he’s right, really,” Liam jumps in quickly. “Nothing happened. I mean, I have a boyfriend.”

Dex freezes, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Nursey go still, as well. He slowly turns back to Liam. “You do?”

Liam shifts a little in his seat. “Yeah,” he says. “We haven’t been dating for that long but...yeah.”

“Oh,” Dex says, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as hollow as he feels.

“I’m really sorry about this,” Liam says, glancing between Dex and Nursey. “I should probably go. But it was nice catching up, Will. I mean it.”

“Liam — ”

“I’ll see you around, okay?” Liam gives Dex a small smile and slides out of his seat, walking in the other direction.

That leaves Dex, sitting alone at a table with Nursey standing above him. Suddenly he really, really wants a drink.

Dex turns to Nursey, who gives him a sheepish look. “Sorry?”

“Save it,” Dex growls, standing up and shoving past Nursey on his way to the bar.

\--

Ransom has been sitting at the bar with Bitty for almost an hour now, and he’s starting to lose count of how much Bitty has drank since then. He doesn’t look drunk yet — despite his size, he built up quite an endurance in college — but he’s definitely tipsy. Part of Ransom wants to cut Bitty off, but he doesn’t think it’s his place, especially when Shitty and Lardo are right next to them and have _definitely_ had just as much to drink as Bitty has.

Then again, Shitty and Lardo aren’t the ones who have become recently unemployed.

“So, Bitty,” Shitty drawls, leaning forward to make eye contact with the blonde. “How’s the unemployed life going so far?”

“It’s actually not bad,” Bitty replies, taking a sip of his beer.

Lardo raises her eyebrows at this and shoots Ransom a look. Ransom looks back at her dubiously.

“Had any interviews yet?” She asks.

“Uh, I had one at a bakery,” Bitty says. “But they never called me back afterwards, so I don’t think it went well.”

Shitty makes a face. “That’s rough.”

“It is what it is,” Bitty says with a shrug. “Honestly, though, I’ve had so much time to bake pies lately that this whole unemployment thing has actually been kind of nice.”

Even Shitty looks doubtful at that, but he says, “Sounds like you’re taking it pretty well.”

“Almost too well,” Ransom mumbles into his beer.

Bitty turns to him. “What was that?”

Ransom swallows and sets his beer down. “Look, I’m just worried,” he confesses. “I feel like you’re bundling all your stress deep inside and any second now you’re gonna crack.”

Bitty shakes his head. “Ransom. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, well, the sixteen pies you stress-baked this morning before it was even noon beg to differ.”

Lardo whistles. “ _Sixteen?_  I feel like that’s gotta be a record.”

“I’m just embracing all this free-time,” Bitty insists with a shrug that’s almost too casual.

“Or maybe you’re baking non-stop to distract yourself from the fact that you’ve applied to dozens of jobs but you’ve only gotten one interview,” Ransom says, and he thinks he sees Bitty’s eye twitch. “Not to mention that rent is due in — ”

“Fine!” Bitty bursts. “I’m freaking out, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Ransom’s eyes widen. He knows now isn’t the time, but he’s kind of looking forward to telling Holster “I told you so” later.

Bitty sighs. “It’s just frustrating, you know? I’ve got all this experience with a nutrition degree and culinary school and odd jobs at any number of bakeries and yet nobody seems to want me.”

Ransom makes a sympathetic noise and pats Bitty’s back. Shitty and Lardo frown.

“I’m twenty-seven,” Bitty says miserably. “I figured by now I’d have my own bakery or cooking show or popular recipe book, in a nice house with a rich husband and some golden retrievers. But instead I’m unemployed and I live in a shitty apartment with all my friends from college.” He glances at Ransom. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Ransom says.

Bitty bangs his head on the bar. “It just _really_ sucks. Just the waiting and the worry of all of it and not knowing what’s going to happen next. What if nothing happens next? What if I’m an unemployed failure for the rest of my life?”

“Bitty,” Lardo says. “I know it’s hard. But it’s gonna be just fine.”

Bitty lifts his head off the bar and grumbles, “Easy for you to say.”

“It’s actually _not_ easy,” Lardo corrects him, never afraid of telling it like it is. “You think I haven’t been through this shit too? I was a studio art major and the first job I had out of college was as a _bartender._ I could barely afford my rent, and I was working so much that I didn’t even have time to do what I loved. And sure, owning a bar and selling art on the side isn’t where I thought I’d be at twenty-eight, but.” She shrugs and smiles a little bit. “I’m actually really, really happy.”

Shitty grins. “Hell yeah you are,” he says, and holds out his hand for a high-five. Lardo rolls her eyes, but she returns the high-five anyway.

“Lardo’s right,” Ransom agrees. “I mean, I graduated from Samwell with a degree in bio and pre-med and just followed Holster to Boston because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, but I figured I’d end up in med school eventually. And now I’m twenty-eight, I’ve still never been to med school, and I’m still a project manager for the same company I’ve been working for since I graduated. Just at a different branch, and with a bit of a promotion.” Then he adds, “And I _also_ live with people I’ve known since college in a shitty apartment. And I’m doing okay.”

“And let us not forget,” Shitty pipes up. “That I went to _Harvard Law_ for three years, passed the bar, for crying out loud, and ended up moving to LA just to open up a bar. You can still be happy even if you’re not doing the thing you thought you were gonna do. Hell, I don’t know _anyone_ who ended up doing what they thought they were gonna do in college.”

“And anyway,” Ransom adds. “You say you’re twenty-seven like that’s super old or something. You have your whole life ahead of you. There’s plenty of time to get to where you want to go.”

Bitty lets out a long sigh. “You’re right. All of you are right,” he admits. Then he adds, “But I’m still unemployed and I have no money.”

“Yeah, for now,” Lardo reasons. “Bitty, come on. You’re one of the most talented people I know. Someone would be an idiot to not want to hire you.”

Bitty smiles, slow and pleased. “You really think so?”

“Chyeah, dude,” Shitty declares, and leans over and rubs Bitty’s head. Ransom thinks he sees a few tears in his eyes, which isn’t really surprising. Bitty's always been a bit of an emotional drunk. “And until then, we’ve got your back.”

“Definitely,” Ransom agrees. “I’ll even help you. I’m like, a wizard at making resumes.”

Bitty laughs, and maybe sniffles a little, too. Honestly, Bitty has always been a bit emotional, period. But his grin is so wide that it covers half his face when he says, “You guys are the best.”

Lardo grins back and leans over, flinging her arms around Bitty’s shoulder and giving him a squeeze. “We know.”

\--

Holster is almost halfway through his beer, wanting to make a good dent in it before he actively begins to search for April, when a voice next to him says, “Hey.”

Holster turns. Speak of the devil. He swallows. “Hey.”

April raises an eyebrow. “You don’t sound surprised to see me.”

“I kinda already knew you were here,” he admits. “I was about to go find you, but. Here you are.”

“Here I am,” April agrees, slides into the empty seat next to Holster, and orders a glass of wine from the bartender.

“So, how do you know the grooms?” Holster asks.

“Pacer is my coworker,” she tells him, and accepts the glass the bartender hands her. She takes a sip. “You?”

Holster doesn’t answer at first, because it takes him an embarrassing amount of time to figure out that Pacer is Wicks. “We played hockey in college,” he says finally.

“Huh,” April says. “Small world.”

“Yeah. Pretty sure every person I’ve ever known in my whole life is at this wedding right now.”

April frowns. “How did that happen?”

“Well, the author wanted to keep the events of the plot this chapter largely in the same setting, which meant she needed to bring a lot of other characters to that setting,” a familiar voice explains from over Holster's shoulder. Holster turns, and it’s Johnson, casually leaning against the bar next to them and sipping a sangria. Holster just stares at him until he finally makes a sheepish face and backs away.

“You look great, by the way,” Holster says, turning back to April and changing the subject.

And she does. Granted, Holster has only seen April in person a few times, but each time she was wearing some sort of athletic gear. Even for their date she wore jean shorts and a jersey. But tonight she’s in a dress, flowy and light pink and just barely grazing the ground. She looks sort of like a princess.

“Thanks.” If Holster didn’t know better he’d say she looked almost shy. “So do you.”

“Thanks.” Holster wills himself not to blush. “Are March and Caitlin here, too?”

“Nope, just me,” April says, and takes another sip of wine. “I assume you brought your gang, though.”

Holster waves a hand. “Yeah, they’re around. Somewhere.”

April grins. “That’s too bad,” she says. “If I knew Chris was gonna be here, I probably could’ve roped Cait into being my date. She’d be thrilled.” Then she pauses, and adds, “Maybe don’t tell Chris that.”

Holster laughs, and then says, trying for casual, “So…you didn’t bring a date, then?”

“No,” April replies, then raises her eyebrows. “Why? Did you?”

“No, definitely not,” Holster says, almost too quickly.

“Hm. Okay.” Her expression is unreadable. “Any reason why not?”

Holster feels the back of his neck heat up, and wonders if he should play it cool or just be honest. Finally, he admits, “Well, I chickened out before I could ask you.”

To Holster’s surprise, April laughs. “Seriously?”

“I haven’t dated in so long that I guess I just got nervous. Also, you’re a little intimidating,” Holster confesses. “No offense.”

“Oh, none taken,” April assures him. “I get that all the time.” She sips from her glass again, and then says, “You should’ve asked me, though. I would’ve said yes.”

Holster grins, bright and earnest. “Yeah?”

April smiles — not a shy one, this time, but a big, huge grin that takes up most of her face. “Yeah. I really like you, Adam.”

Holster flushes. “I really like you, too.” He says, and before he loses his nerve, he adds, “And I’d really like to go on another date.”

“That sounds nice,” April agrees. “We could go bowling again? You might actually win this time.”

“Ha ha,” Holster says, although he’s grinning so wide that he doesn’t think any sarcasm actually made it into his tone.

April smiles down at her wine glass, and then looks back up at him. “I’ve got to go mingle with the rest of my coworkers, otherwise they’ll get offended and then I’ll never hear the end of it.” She says this with an eye-roll, as though the word “mingling” is synonymous with “getting a tooth pulled.” “But I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Holster agrees. “I’ll text you.”

April smiles again. “Good,” she says, and then she turns and disappears into the crowd.

\--

Dex gets about a half-hour of blissful solitude before he finally spots Nursey walking towards him. He groans and downs the contents of his third beer, even though he knows this confrontation is inevitable. And anyway, if it wasn’t Nursey, someone would’ve sent Chowder or Bitty in his place.

“Hey,” he says, sliding into the seat closest to Dex, who has been able to keep this table empty for so long by glaring murderously at anybody who even glanced at him. When Dex doesn’t respond to Nursey except to shoot him a similar glare, he sighs. “Look, I know you’re mad at me. Even though I didn’t _actually_ do anything wrong — ”

“Just say what you’re gonna say so I can drink my beer in peace,” Dex sighs.

“Fine, fine,” Nursey raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Look, I just wanted to say…Liam was definitely flirting with you. Even though he had a boyfriend the whole time.”

“Thank you so much for pointing out the obvious, Nursey,” Dex says, deadpan.

“I wasn’t _finished_ , thank you,” Nursey says with a glare. “Look, dude, he led you on. That wasn’t chill. You deserve better.”

Dex snorts and takes another sip.

“Come on, man, you do,” Nursey says, jostling Dex’s arm. “Flirting with someone while you have a boyfriend is dickweed behavior, and you deserve, well….not that.”

“You’re really not very good at this,” Dex points out.

Nursey groans. “I know, I know. I’m trying, alright?” Dex rolls his eyes. “Look, you may be an uptight asshole, but you’re a good friend and a good roommate and a good person, okay?”

Dex blinks. He feels the tips of his ears burn. 

Nursey shifts in his seat, a little awkward, and continues, “I’m just saying. You deserve someone who cares about you.”

Dex isn’t quite sure it’s true. It’s not that he doesn’t think he deserves to be happy — it’s just that Dex is grumpy and mean and has never made it very easy for others to care about him.

But when it’s coming from Nursey, who can be annoying but is still friendly and surprisingly kind, and evidently determined to care about Dex anyway, it’s easier to believe.

Dex looks down at the table, avoiding Nursey’s gaze. “Yeah, okay,” he says finally. “I — thanks.”

“Welcome,” Nursey says, and pats Dex on the back. “Now, can you quit drinking and being mopey? You’re ruining the mood. Ollie and Wicks might kick you out.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Dex says, but he shoves his beer out of the way. “Where’s everybody else, anyway?”

Nursey nods to a table near the bar, where Bitty, Chowder, Ransom, Holster, Shitty, and Lardo are sitting, blowing the cheap bubbles they’d found at the party favors table just outside the ballroom. “Over there. Waiting for you to quit drinking and being mopey.”

Dex rolls his eyes but shoves himself out of his chair, and the two of them walk over to their friends’ table.

“Dex!” Chowder says once he spots them, eyes lighting up.

“Hey, man,” Holster says, and with a touch of concern, asks, “You okay?”

Dex lets out a long exhale, then says, “Yeah, actually. I think so.” Then he adds, “I think it’s time to move on.”

Chowder gives him a supportive grin. Bitty reaches over and pats his hand. Dex smiles, and he and Nursey slide into the empty seats at the table.

“So,” Dex says. “What have you guys been up to?”

“Giving Bitty life advice,” Lardo says with a shrug. “The usual.”

Holster smiles, almost shy. “April and I are going on another date.”

“Dude!” Ransom says, sitting up. “You talked to her?”

“Yeah,” Holster says. His smile grows wider. “She said she really liked me.”

“Hell yeah she did!” Shitty says, and gives Holster a high-five.

“Hey,” Bitty says suddenly, straightening in his seat. “Are they playing Phil Collins right now?”

The group is silent for a moment, listening. “Yep,” Lardo affirms a few seconds later. “ _Groovy Kind of Love._ ”

“This DJ has been playing all the bops,” Nursey declares, and Holster nods in agreement.

Dex looks over at Nursey, then sighs. “C’mon, Nurse.”

“What?”

Dex rises to his feet. “I said, come on.”

Nursey raises his eyebrows but slowly stands and follows Dex out onto the dance floor. The rest of their friends watch, puzzled.

They stop on the outskirts of the slow-dancing crowd. Dex can feel the beat of the music vibrating under his feet as Nursey stares at him, confused, and Dex can’t exactly believe he’s about to do this, but after everything Nursey has put up with from him today, he thinks maybe he deserves it.

So Dex starts doing the chicken dance.

Nursey, of course, immediately bursts out laughing.

“Don’t make me do this by myself,” Dex grumbles. The back of his neck is flushing maybe just a little bit.

“I don’t know, dude,” Nursey says. “You’re pretty good at it.”

Dex laughs and shoves him.

Ransom, still at the table with the rest of his friends, watches, wide-eyed. “That looks like so much fun,” he says, with something like awe in his voice.

Holster turns to him, incredulous. “What?”

“C’mon,” Ransom says, and grabs him by the wrist and leads him out onto the dance floor.

The rest of their friends follow not long after that. They get a lot of weird looks — probably because they’re eight adults chicken-dancing to a romantic Phil Collins song. Dex is pretty sure he sees someone pull their phone out and record them.

But even though he just sat through maybe the most bizarre wedding of his entire life and had an awkward and mildly heartbreaking encounter with the only guy he’s ever been in love with, Dex is still surrounded by seven of his favorite people, so he decides maybe the day wasn’t too bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Johnson: I mean, Jack almost came to this wedding, but that would've been a bit TOO BIG of a coincidence, you know?
> 
> Holster: what
> 
> Johnson: what
> 
> Anyway, thanks so much for reading and please leave a comment or kudos! I hope y'all enjoyed the chapter even though the ending was very cheesy (in typical New Girl fashion)
> 
> NEXT UP: the inevitable Thanksgiving chapter


	3. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty plans a Thanksgiving meal, Ransom gets trapped in Walmart, and Nursey and Chowder try to prevent their roommates from watching a football game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos and comments, guys!
> 
> Also, before anyone tries to call me out for Bitty's "I'm from the south, of course I like football" line -- yes, I know not everyone from the south watches football. I am from the south and do not like football and I'm sure Bitty doesn't like it either. But this is an AU and it's all for the plot so it's ok
> 
> If you want a playlist to listen to while you read, click here: https://open.spotify.com/user/gracemcgready/playlist/3p1LgJ0P3SCtBUut5Px4pJ?si=Ze7gBhlKSFCZxbiAjOf31g

“And that’s why we need to make sure we have absolutely  _ everything  _ we need for Thanksgiving,” Bitty tells Ransom and Holster as they step inside the elevator. “I am  _ not  _ having a repeat of last year.”

The infamous event Bitty is referring to is last Thanksgiving, where their whole meal had somehow consisted of rolls and week-old leftover pizza. 

Bitty shudders at the memory.

Ransom raises his eyebrows at him as he punches the button to their floor. “Dude. Thanksgiving is literally weeks away.”

“It’s never too early to prepare,” Bitty responds primly.

Ransom and Holster just roll their eyes in unison, something they’ve been doing quite a lot lately. Bitty thinks it’s a little creepy.

The truth is, Bitty is latching onto the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday because it’s been two months and he  _ still  _ hasn’t found a job. He’s been searching high and low, has even recruited Ransom’s help on his resumes, and he hasn’t even made it past the interview stage at any of the dozens of places he’s applied.

He hasn’t been wholly without an income for the past two months — he advertises his baking services on Facebook, and a lot of people have actually taken him up on it — but he’s not going to survive much longer without a stable paycheck, or without something to keep him busy day-in and day-out. At least prepping for Thanksgiving gives him a task to focus on. 

“I’m just saying,” Bitty continues as the elevator begins to rise to the top floor of the building. “If I’m going to plan a meal for approximately eight people, maybe more, I need to plan a— oh, hey, Jack.”

Jack stands on the outside of the elevator, and looks confused at first when the doors slide open, but gives a friendly smile when he realizes it’s Bitty. “Oh, hey, Bits.”

Bitty can see Holster give him a look out of the corner of his eye. “Bits?” Holster mouths.

Bitty determinedly ignores him.

“Jack, these are my roommates, Adam and Justin,” Bitty says, gesturing. Ransom smiles and Holster waves. “I’m sure you’ve overheard their loud renditions of the musical  _ Anastasia  _ at two in the morning.”

“I was wondering where the singing was coming from,” Jack admits. Holster, the louder of the two, has the decency to at least look embarrassed. Jack nods down at the grocery bags in Bitty’s hands. “More pie ingredients?”

“Cheesecake, actually,” Bitty corrects as he moves out of the elevator. Ransom and Holster follow suit. Bitty once again ignores the look they shoot each other over his head.

“Right.”

And before Bitty can talk himself out of it, he says, “My cheesecake is just as good as my pie, though. So feel free to stop by anytime to try it.”

“Diet regimen,” Jack reminds Bitty, but he’s smiling.

“I mean, I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Bitty says, voice low, like this is a secret only he and Jack share, even though Holster and Ransom are standing right next to him, gawking.

“Haha,” Jack says, and Bitty could swear he looks almost flustered as he steps inside the elevator. “I’ll see you later, Bitty.”

“Bye, Jack,” Bitty calls as the elevator doors close, and turns towards his own apartment. But when he props the door open to let Ransom and Holster in, he realizes the two of them are still standing in the hallway, jaws dropped. “What?”

“Dude,” Ransom says, gaping at Bitty. “You just  _ flirted  _ with  _ Jack Zimmermann. _ ”

Bitty feels his face grow hot. “I did  _ not. _ ”

“You  _ definitely  _ did,” Holster insists, but finally picks his jaw off the floor enough to start walking towards the apartment. Ransom follows behind him, still looking a little stunned. “Furthermore, Jack Zimmermann flirted  _ back. _ ”

Bitty flushes even further. “Y’all are delusional. There is no world in which Jack Zimmermann is not 100% straight.”

“I dunno,” Holster sing-songs, and Bitty swats him on the arm as he moves past him into the apartment.

“Yeah, Holtzy’s right. You should invite him over for drinks sometime,” Ransom casually suggests, placing the bags of groceries on top of the kitchen counter.

“Yeah,” Holster agrees. “And maybe for a little fun  _ after  _ drinks.”

Bitty is scarlet at this point. “Y’all are terrible,” he declares, and lets the apartment door fall shut behind him.

\--

Chowder’s always prided himself on being a planner. That’s just the kind of person he is — he’s always over-prepared. If someone wakes up with a hangover, Chowder’s there to supply Advil. If someone falls and scrapes their knee, Chowder always carries around a band-aid. If there’s an emergency and someone needs to wash their hands, Chowder has hand sanitizer in the glove compartment of his car.

Going into his first date with Caitlin is no different. They both liked the idea of a picnic in the park on Saturday afternoon, so Chowder packs all of the necessary ingredients: bottles of water, juice boxes, chips, watermelon, and tomato sandwiches. He even runs to Walmart the night before to get festive napkins, paper plates, and an authentic looking picnic basket like you see in the movies.

But in making sure he and Caitlin have the perfect ingredients for a picnic, there’s one thing he forgets to prepare for.

“You know,” Caitlin says as she and Chowder stand in the lobby of their building, wincing as the rain pounds against the pavement outside. “Picnics don’t  _ necessarily  _ have to be outside.”

Chowder, feeling a little mournful as he watches lightning streak across the sky, turns to Caitlin, questioning.

“April and March are gone for the rest of the day,” she offers, and lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “We could go back to my place?”

So five minutes later, Chowder and Caitlin are spread out on Chowder’s quilt, munching on tomato sandwiches and scrolling through Caitlin’s Netflix queue.

“So, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind for our first date…” Chowder admits.

It occurs to him afterwards that he used the phrase “ _ first _ date,” which is a phrase that could potentially scare some people off. But Caitlin practically beams at him, so he thinks it’s okay.

“Me neither,” Caitlin says. “But this is still...kind of nice?”

“Yeah,” Chowder agrees. “It is.”

Caitlin’s smile, if possible, grows even wider. “I’m actually...I mean, I’m definitely an extrovert, so I like going out with my friends and everything, but I’m actually a huge homebody?”

“Literally same,” Chowder declares, which, in retrospect, is a phrase he never once used until Nursey became his roommate, but that’s a different matter. “Half the time I’d rather spend the night in with other people than go out with other people.”

“Right!” Caitlin agrees emphatically, rooting around in the picnic basket until she pulls out a juice box. “Flashin’ Fruit Punch? You got the good stuff.”

“I mean, it is the superior juice box flavor,” Chowder points out.

After debating for a few minutes, they finally settle on  _ Mamma Mia _ . And when Caitlin lies her head on Chowder’s shoulder about thirty minutes into the movie, singing ABBA softly under her breath, Chowder valiantly attempts not to flush as he wraps his arm around her shoulder.

“So,” Caitlin says, when the credits are rolling and Chowder is packing up the picnic basket. “For our next date, maybe we should check the weather first?”

And that's the moment Chowder realizes Caitlin is way more confident than he could ever hope to be, because all he can do in response to her question is gape like a fish, mind whirling around the words “next date.”

After it’s been several seconds and Chowder still hasn’t attempted a response, Caitlin falters. “Sorry, I didn’t — I mean, I definitely don’t want to make you feel like we have to — ”

“No, no, no!” Chowder says quickly. “I’d  _ love  _ to go on a second date!”

Caitlin blinks, and a slow smile spreads across her face. “Really?”

If Chowder’s being honest, he’d like to go on  _ a lot  _ more dates with Caitlin Farmer. But what he says instead is, “Cait, of course.” Then, a little softer, “I think you’re awesome.”

As Chowder watches Caitlin’s face go pink, it occurs to him, suddenly, how close they’re sitting together. But before he can stop to reflect on this, Caitlin is leaning forward, so close that the flyaway wisps of her hair are tickling Chowder’s face. She hesitates before moving any further, though, as if giving Chowder a chance to say no, which is such a ridiculous concept that it gives Chowder the courage to close the gap between them.

It’s not Chowder’s first kiss, or his second. It’s actually probably not even his third. Samwell Men’s Hockey was a big thing when he was in college, alright? He had a lot of opportunities.

And objectively, it’s not the best kiss Chowder has ever had, either. That time he made out with Mia Brown at the kegster after winning playoffs junior year is probably the best kiss he can come up with — objectively, of course.

But despite that objective fact — despite the fact that this kiss with Caitlin is sort of chaste because he’s smiling too much into it to make it anything but — this is still the only kiss Chowder has ever had with someone he really, truly and earnestly, liked. Like, in a romantic, gooey way. 

And because of that, Chowder’s kiss with Caitlin gets put at the top of Chowder’s mental “Best Kisses” List.

“So,” Holster says when Chowder practically floats into the loft later that night, after their date is over. Ransom, who’s next to him on the couch, his feet propped up in Holster’s lap, pauses Netflix to regard Chowder with raised eyebrows.

“I think,” Chowder says slowly, a probably love-sick grin spread wide across his face, “That was the best date of my life.”

“Hell yeah,” Ransom cheers, and offers Chowder a fist-bump, which he gleefully returns.

\--

A week before Thanksgiving, Bitty looks up from scrolling through Twitter to say, “So, everyone’s set for Thanksgiving, right?”

The six of them are hanging out at the bar, Chowder, Dex, Ransom, and Holster shouting at the hockey game on TV while Nursey tries to grade his students’ tests without accidentally spilling beer all over them. 

Nursey, who has not heard a word about any Thanksgiving plans thus far and has no idea exactly what he’s supposed to be set for, says, “Uh, what?”

“Thanksgiving,” Bitty repeats. “Everyone’s free, right? We’re all going to be here?”

“Uh…” Nursey trails off, and Bitty immediately narrows his eyes at him. “I mean, I’ll be here and everything, but my mom’s half Native American, so...I’m not exactly a Thanksgiving person.”

“Dude, and you think  _ I  _ am?” Ransom says. “I’m from  _ Canada. _ ”

Which...isn’t what Nursey was getting at, exactly, but is still a fair point.

“It’s okay, Nursey,” Chowder pipes up. “My family doesn’t really do Thanksgiving either. But  _ I  _ like to celebrate my friends and eat Bitty’s food, so I’m perfectly okay with Loft Thanksgiving.”

Nursey furrows his eyebrows. “And you guys are all staying here to celebrate? I figured some of you would go home for the holiday.”

By  _ some of you _ , Nursey mainly means Bitty and Dex. Dex has a huge family who probably goes all out for Thanksgiving, and based on how much Bitty and his family love baking, he  _ knows  _ they’re the type of family that goes all out for Thanksgiving.

Dex gives Nursey a look. “Do you really think any of us can afford to go home for both Thanksgiving  _ and  _ Christmas? Or Hanukkah?” Dex adds before Holster can opens his mouth.

This is also a fair point, so Nursey says, “True.”

“So,” Bitty says to Nursey. “Loft Thanksgiving? You’re in?”

Nursey thinks about it. Sure, he'd originally planned to get some novel writing done on Thanksgiving, and also he thinks Thanksgiving celebrates the act of overlooking the suffering of Indigenous people, but it’s not exactly like he can avoid being in his own home all day. Especially if Bitty’s cooking.

“Fine, I’ll come,” Nursey relents, and Bitty cheers. “But we’re calling it Loftsgiving. Not Thanksgiving.”

“Fine with me,” Bitty agrees easily. “I just need to know exactly how many to account for.”

“Are Lards and Shitty coming?” Nursey asks.

“Lemme check,” Holster says, then shouts, “HEY! LARDO! SHITTY! YOU GUYS COMING TO LOFTSGIVING THIS YEAR?”

Lardo, who’s currently mixing a drink for another customer, gives Holster a thumbs-up without turning around, and doesn’t even bother to ask Holster to lower his voice. Nursey thinks she and Shitty have pretty much deemed that a lost cause, at this point.

“Alright, so that’s eight,” Bitty says. “Should we be be expecting April and Farmer?” When Chowder raises his eyebrows, Bitty shrugs. “Figured she deserved a hockey nickname.”

Chowder sighs, exasperated. “Are you guys literally incapable of calling people by their first names?”

“No one’s bothered to give April a hockey name,” Holster almost pouts.

“That’s probably because she was never given a last name in canon, and the author is too lazy to give her one themselves,” Johnson says, suddenly appearing next to Dex at the bar.

Dex shoots Johnson a glare. “Dude. Don’t you have something better to do?”

“Not really,” Johnson says before wandering off to the other side of the bar.

“Anyway…” Chowder says, giving Johnson one last weird look before turning his attention back to Bitty. “Cait’s spending the day with her family, I think.”

He says this with a frown, which is the first time Nursey’s seen Chowder talk about Caitlin without a love-sick grin on his face.  It’s only a little annoying.

“I’m pretty sure April should be good to come,” Holster says. “But while we’re on the subject, you know who I think  _ you  _ should invite, Bitty?” Bitty looks at Holster, who blinks far too innocently, and raises his eyebrows. “Jack Zimmermann.”

“Yes!” Ransom agrees excitedly, and lifts his hand. Holster high-fives him without even having to glance over. 

(Nursey thinks Bitty might be onto something — it  _ is  _ a little creepy how in-sync they can be sometimes.)

“ _ No, _ ” Bitty insists vehemently. 

“I think you should!” Chowder suggests. “C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“He says, ‘No, I’d rather not spend my holiday with six guys I barely know’?” 

“You know, oddly enough, I really can’t picture Jack Zimmermann saying that,” Nursey says, deadpan.

“Not you too,” Bitty groans.

Nursey just smirks and takes a sip of his beer.

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” Dex points out. “I mean, you could always invite him under the guise of being neighborly.”

“Says the guy who’s never made the first move in a relationship ever,” Bitty shoots back.

“Buuuuurn,” Nursey says into his beer. Dex shoots him a glare and punches him on the shoulder. Nursey just narrowly avoids spilling his drink on Leo Rodriguez’s test on the first three chapters of  _ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe _ .

“See?” Bitty says, gesturing, though Nursey isn’t sure if he’s referring to Nursey’s tendency for clumsiness or Dex’s tendency to be an asshole. “This is exactly why I won’t be inviting him. Case closed.”

Ransom and Holster groan, but they drop the subject.

\--

Though Chowder constantly strives for optimism, he’d be the first to admit that the Loft doesn’t exactly have a good track record when it comes to Thanksgivings. (Or Loftsgivings, as Nursey has now dubbed them.)

Two years ago, Holster took a pie out of the oven and immediately proceeded to drop it. Bitty wouldn’t speak to Holster for a full month afterwards, and apple filling can still be found in the grout of the kitchen tile today.

In fact, they’ve never had a Thanksgiving where everything turned out perfectly. Something always goes wrong — Bitty forgets an ingredient, or Holster drops something, or Bitty tells Chowder to get the casserole out of the oven at 11:30 and then Chowder forgets. Every single year, they end up ordering pizza or Chinese takeout. 

Their most successful Thanksgiving ended with them eating green beans with their pizza.

But this year, Chowder actually has a good feeling about the way things might turn out. Bitty started preparing way in advance, and he’s already set a rule where no one is allowed to touch the oven other than him and Dex. 

And besides, it’s their first Loftsgiving with Nursey, so even if something does go wrong, the day can’t end  _ too  _ horribly.

He first realizes he’s wrong when he wakes up a little before noon to the sound of Bitty screaming at a pitch only dogs can hear, “HOW DID I FORGET THE  _ EGGS _ ?”

Chowder scrambles out of bed and runs to the kitchen to find Bitty almost in tears, with Ransom wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulder. “What’s wrong?” Chowder asks, panicked.

“He forgot to buy eggs,” Ransom whispers, as if lowering the volume of his voice will hurt the severity of the situation.

“I can’t bake my pies, I can’t make my rolls, I can't make my famous casserole...” Bitty trails off, clearly distraught.

“Could you...maybe use a substitute?” Chowder offers in a hesitant voice.

Bitty scoffs. “What am I, an amateur?”

Dex frowns. “I could’ve  _ sworn  _ we had eggs in the fridge the other night…”

Chowder, who accidentally knocked over the carton of eggs in the fridge yesterday and had thrown away the broken eggs and told himself he’d buy a new carton before anyone noticed, suddenly realizes he never actually bought that other cartoon and says, “No, I don’t think we did.”

“God, why do I even bother?” Bitty throws up his hands. “Can’t find a job, can’t cook a Thanksgiving meal…”

“Hey, no, don’t say that,” Ransom says, soothingly rubbing Bitty’s shoulder up and down. “There’s still time, right? It’s not even noon yet. No one will be here until four.”

“I won’t have time to go to the store  _ and  _ cook this entire meal.”

“I’ll go to the store!” Ransom offers. “You can stay here and bake everything that doesn’t require eggs, and when I get back you can bake everything else. By the time you’re done, it’ll still be hours before anyone gets here and we’ll even have time to watch the game!”

Chowder withholds a groan. He’d forgotten about the game.

Nursey furrows his eyebrows. “The game?” He repeats.

“Football?” Dex says. “The most popular sport in America? Ring any bells?”

“I know what  _ football  _ is,” Nursey says, shooting Dex a glare. “I just didn’t realize people  _ actually  _ watched it on Thanksgiving. I thought it was a lie fabricated by the media to be used as a cliche trope on cable TV sitcoms.”

“I used to think that, too,” Chowder says with a mournful sigh. “Before I moved in with these guys and my life of blissful ignorance was ruined.”

Bitty looks positively affronted, and Nursey raises his eyebrows. “What, you like football too?”

“Nursey, honey. I’m from the South. Even if you hated football, you watched it.”

“I stand corrected,” Nursey says, sarcastic.

Bitty doesn’t dignify this with a response, and instead turns to Ransom. “You’d really risk going to the store on Thanksgiving Day? For me?”

Chowder secretly thinks Ransom’s reasonings are less selfless than they appear, and that he’s probably just trying to avoid dealing with the aftermath of a Bitty meltdown. Still, Ransom pats Bitty’s shoulder reassuringly. “Yeah, of course, Bits.”

Bitty looks like he’s ready to burst into tears of gratitude, but to Chowder’s surprise, he only sniffles once. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll get started on the green beans.”

“That’s the spirit,” Ransom says, and disentangles his arm from Bitty’s shoulder to grab the keys to his and Holster’s car, Petunia. “Anyone need anything else while I’m out?”

“Uh, yeah,” Holster says. “A drink would be nice.”

Ransom glares at him and makes his way out the door.

Bitty makes quick work of assigning everyone else a task as soon as Ransom is gone. Chowder’s job is to chop vegetables, and Nursey gets the job of taking Chowder’s chopped vegetables and tossing them into a chef salad.  (Bitty didn’t trust Nursey enough for a harder job. Chowder can’t say he blames him.)

While Bitty, Holster, and Dex are busy prepping the green beans, Nursey leans over to Chowder and hisses, “I kinda really don’t want to be forced to watch football later.”

Chowder wants to lie, and say something falsely optimistic, like, “It’s not that bad,” but instead he purses his mouth into a straight line.

The truth is, it’s best if Nursey doesn’t know what he’s getting into. Chowder knows he probably doesn’t have room to talk — he can get pretty intense watching Sharks games — but his roommates watching football is something else. They spend the entire afternoon yelling at the TV in octaves that get increasingly higher as time goes on, and discussing game-plays which sound to Chowder like a foreign language. And if Chowder dares to speak — or, even worse, suggest they change the channel — his friends only start to yell louder.

By the time the game is over and he and his friends are heading out to go Black Friday shopping, Chowder has started fantasizing about how satisfying it would feel to throttle his roommate.

Nursey groans. “I didn’t even think they watched football.”

They don’t, is the thing — or at least, they don’t all together. He’s caught Dex watching a few U Maine games before, and Bitty and Holster will tune into a few NFL games together every now and then, but it’s never an Event™ like it is on Thanksgiving.

(Except for the Super Bowl, which is usually worse. But Chowder thinks it’s probably best they not get ahead of themselves.)

Chowder almost gets it with Bitty — his dad was coach of Bitty’s high school football team, and Chowder’s pretty sure he somehow forced himself into liking the sport so that he and his dad could at least have  _ something  _ in common. But as for the rest of Chowder’s friends, he has no idea.

To Nursey, Chowder shrugs and says, “I think yelling at a TV screen helps Bitty de-stress after cooking all day. Or something.”

Chowder dumps sliced tomatoes in the salad, and Nursey continues to toss. “Even Ransom  watches?”

“I don’t think he cares about football all that much,” Chowder says. “But Holster does, so he never says anything.”

“And Dex?”

Chowder gives Nursey a look, and he must get the gist, because he sighs. “So it’s two against four.”

“Well, if you count Shitty, Lardo, and probably April, two against seven,” Chowder corrects, and Nursey groans again. But they at least don’t have to worry about the other three for a few more hours. Cait is spending the day with her family, so she isn’t coming over until almost midnight, when they’ll leave for Black Friday shopping, but Chowder likes to think that if she  _ were  _ here, she’d be on Chowder’s side.

They continue to build the salad in silence for a few more minutes until Nursey finally says, voice a little too casual, “I mean...there’s always the chance that. Potentially. Something could happen. To the TV, for instance. And we wouldn’t have to watch football.”

Chowder glances at Holster, Dex, and Bitty, who are too busy working to pay attention to Nursey and Chowder. Then he looks back at Nursey, who blinks innocently. “I’m not helping you break the TV.”

“We’re not  _ breaking  _ it,” Nursey says, rolling his eyes. “We’re just going to temporarily disable it from use.”

Chowder raises his eyebrows. “You really want to pull a stunt like this when Bitty’s one mishap away from flying off the handle?” 

“Chow. Come on,” Nursey says. “Isn’t Thanksgiving awful enough? As Jake Peralta once said, ‘The pilgrims were murderers and turkey tastes like napkins.’”

Chowder tries to stay strong, but he can’t help but bite back a laugh at Nursey’s well-timed  _ Brooklyn 99 _ reference. “Well, when you put it that way...”

Nursey grins brightly, and Chowder officially says goodbye to his hopes of having a happy and stress-free Thanksgiving.

\--

Ransom has no problem with leaving the loft to find some eggs for Bitty. It’s the least he can do, especially when Bitty’s on the verge of a mental breakdown, and it’s not like Ransom wants to stick around the loft while he stressfully throws together the meals required for a Thanksgiving meal.

Not to mention that Thanksgiving isn’t even Ransom’s thing. Has he mentioned? He’s  _ Canadian. _

But when he pulls into the parking lot of the nearest Walmart and sees just how packed it is, he starts to think maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

Finding a parking spot is hard enough. What’s even harder is making it inside the store. The entire place is packed, to the point where Ransom can barely make his way through the aisles. It’s unfathomable to him that one city can be this unprepared, but if Bitty, who had this meal planned down to a tee, managed to forget the eggs, he guesses anything is possible.

(Although, Ransom thinks Dex is right—  he really could’ve  _ sworn _ they’d had eggs the other day.)

Still, the quicker Ransom finds the eggs, the quicker he can get out of here, and going home without Bitty’s eggs is simply not an option. So Ransom takes a deep breath and marches towards the section where the eggs should be.

It’s easier said than done. Especially because Ransom really, really doesn’t do crowds; every shove and push against his back has him on the verge of going into what Holster has referred to ever since college as “coral reef mode.”

It sounds ridiculous, but Ransom thinks this would be easier if Holster were here, too. One extra person would make the store even more packed, obviously, but Ransom usually finds that everything seems a little easier for him when Holster’s there. He’d at least know the perfect thing to say, some joke or reassuring statement to make Ransom calm down.

Of course, even better than Holster being here with him would be if Ransom wasn’t here at all, but whatever.

Because the store is so packed that Ransom can barely move, it takes him far longer than it should to find the eggs, and it takes him even longer to make his way up to the registers, where, naturally, each line has about a million people in it.

He’s just finally found a place in what looks like the shortest line in the store and is starting to hope that maybe he’ll make it home before two when all of the bright lights hanging from the ceiling immediately go out.

_ Don’t panic,  _ Ransom instructs himself even as he hears the chorus of screams around him.  _ Do  _ not _ panic. _

But the screams are rising in pitch and Ransom’s starting to realize that if the power is out then the registers are probably down, too, which means he’s going to have to wait in this line until they’re back up and running because  _ he can’t go home without these eggs  _ and God knows how long that will take and holy shit  _ he can’t do this _ —

“Hey,” says a somewhat familiar voice to Ransom’s right, interrupting his spiral. He jerks around to see a guy with dark brown hair and a baseball hat. “Justin, right?”

It’s Jack Zimmermann, Ransom realizes a second too late, after he’s been staring at Jack for what feels like hours. “I — yeah,” he finally stammers out.

Jack’s eyebrows draw together in concern. “You okay?”

_ Not really,  _ Ransom thinks to himself. He really can’t believe Jack Zimmermann, hockey legend, NHL captain, and neighbor, caught him on the verge of a mental breakdown in Walmart. “I, uh — don’t do crowds.”

“Me neither,” Jack admits. “You wanna, uh, maybe take a few deep breaths?”

Which, yeah, is a good idea actually, so he gives a shaky nod. Jack reaches out and presses a reassuring hand to Ransom’s shoulder and takes deep, measured breaths, and Ransom follows suit. He closes his eyes — just for a few seconds — and tries to forget about the fact that he’s trapped in a Walmart with Jack Zimmermann who is, embarrassingly, watching him have a mild panic attack, and just focuses on breathing. And when he opens his eyes again, he still feels a bit panicked, but definitely better.

And, as a plus, there are a lot fewer people in the store. Evidently, the less desperate customers saw the power go out, gave up, and headed home. 

“Thanks,” Ransom tells Jack, giving him a small smile.

Jack squeezes Ransom’s shoulder just once before dropping his hand. He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I get panic attacks a lot too, so.”

And Ransom doesn’t want to be rude and outwardly react to that information, so he decides to change the subject. “How long do you think the power’s gonna be out?”

“Probably not that long,” Jack replies. “There’s a lot of desperate Thanksgiving people in here.”

Ransom looks down at the basket in Jack’s hand, and judging its contents, decides Jack probably isn’t one of those people. “And you decided to brave the desperate Thanksgiving crowd for milk, shaving cream, and bananas?”

Jack makes a face. “I, uh, kinda forgot it was Thanksgiving?” Before Ransom can respond, he hastily tacks on, “I’m Canadian, so I’m used to celebrating in October.” 

And Ransom vaguely remembers reading about Jack being Canadian when he was signed years ago, but by now he’s forgotten, so he says, excited, “Dude! Me too!” 

Jack raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes!” Ransom says. “And dude, Americans are way more extra about their Thanksgivings. This shit would never happen in Canada.” Jack laughs at that. “I’m only here because Bitty needed eggs.” He gestures to the carton in his hands to demonstrate.

“Ah,” Jack says understandingly. “So... _ is _ American Thanksgiving similar to Canadian Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah. Just ours is way better,” Ransom says. Jack laughs again, another little ‘haha’ that he thinks is kind of weird but Bitty must find super endearing. Speaking of Bitty… “Hey, if we ever make out of here alive, you’re welcome to come to the loft and try American Thanksgiving for yourself.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Jack says immediately. “I don’t wanna impose or anything.”

“Hey, it’s the least I could do after you talked me out of a panic attack in the middle of Walmart,” Ransom says with a shrug and a joking sort of smile that he hopes still conveys his genuine thanks. “Besides, Bitty’s cooking enough for a whole army, anyway. Or he will be, after he gets these eggs.”

Jack hesitates, before finally saying, “Well, if it isn’t too much trouble…”

Ransom beams at him, and thinks about the look on Bitty’s face when he walks in the door with Jack in tow.

Maybe going to Walmart wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

\--

A little after two, when Dex and Bitty are putting the turkey in the oven and Holster is starting to wonder what’s taking Ransom so long, Chowder pulls Nursey to the side.

“The game starts soon,” he hisses. The two of them are hiding in front of the entryway to the apartment, just out of earshot of the kitchen. “What’s the plan?”

Honestly, Nursey had a little been surprised at how easily Chowder agreed to sabotage their friends’ happiness, especially because he normally shies away from conflict. This definitely wouldn’t be the first time Nursey underestimated Christopher Chow, though.

“I was thinking we’d steal the cable and hide it where nobody will find it,” Nursey informs Chowder, who just stares at him blankly. He feels himself grow defensive. “What? I thought it was a good plan.”

“Nursey,” Chowder says in a tone that makes him sound like he’s speaking to a child and not a twenty-five year old man. “We have a satellite.”

Nursey blinks. “Oh,” he says finally.

Chowder rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Here’s a better idea — why don’t we just hide the remote?”

Nursey tries to play it casual, but he feels a little embarrassed. “Yeah, sure. That works.”

Chowder rolls his eyes again and then tip-toes into the living room. Nursey peeks his head into the kitchen to act as look-out. Fortunately, Bitty, Dex, and Holster are preoccupied — they’re on the phone with Ransom, who’s saying something about the power going out at Walmart. He glances back over at Chowder, who has successfully snatched up the remote and is scurrying back over to Nursey.

“Got it!” He cheers in a whisper, grinning ear to ear. “This is fun! I feel like a spy or something.”

“Quit smiling like that, we’re supposed to be professionals,” Nursey hisses. Chowder’s smile immediately transforms into a serious expression, and Nursey motions for him to follow him into his room. After scanning for a good hiding place, he finally makes his way over the bookshelf, picks a book at random, and slides the remote between the pages.

Chowder shoots Nursey a thumbs-up. “Perfect. I don’t think Bitty’s touched a book since high school.”

Nursey barks out a laugh. 

When Nursey and Chowder walk back into the living room, Dex looks up, takes one look at their expressions, and narrows his eyes. “Why do you two look entirely too innocent?”

And honestly, fuck Dex for being too damn perceptive all the time. “No idea what you’re talking about,” Nursey lies coolly.

Chowder nods in agreement. His lying expression needs some work.

Dex looks at them doubtfully, and opens his mouth to say something else, but before he can, Bitty claps his hands. “Alright, boys! The turkey’s almost done cooking, and we still have over an hour before everyone gets here. Ransom should be on his way, so worse comes to worse, I bake the pie while everyone else is eating.”

“Can we watch the game now?” Holster asks, hopeful. He sounds like someone who’s been forced into excruciating work for hours, when the reality is that Dex and Bitty probably did most of the work.

“Yes, Holster,” Bitty says in his Mom Voice. “We can watch the game.”

Holster launches himself onto the couch first, and Bitty and Dex aren’t far behind. Chowder and Nursey exchange a look as Holster begins rummaging in the couch cushions. It takes a total of five minutes before Holster asks, “Yo, where’s the remote?”

Chowder lets out a giggle. Nursey shoots him a look.

Dex stops wiggling his hand under the couch cushions to raise his head. “Guys…what did you do with the remote?”

Nursey shrugs, the epitome of nonchalant, and sincerely hopes Chowder doesn’t blow this for them. “Dunno,” he says. “Can’t watch football without it, though, can we?”

Dex raises one eyebrow and says, “Uh, actually, we can.”

Then he gets up, walks over to the TV, and presses the power button.

For a second, no one says anything at all. Dex looks triumphant, Holster and Bitty look kind of confused, and Nursey feels like an idiot. But just as he’s beginning to open his mouth to come up with some sort of excuse, Chowder shouts, “PLAN B!”

He grabs Nursey by the arm, dragging him out the door and towards the stairwell right outside their apartment. Nursey makes to go down, but then Chowder says, “No, you idiot!” and shoves him up the stairs towards the roof.

The two of them burst out onto the roof above the loft, and Chowder immediately dashes over to the dish that’s mounted against the side of the building. Nursey stops, eyes wide, and hears Dex, Bitty, and Holster come to an abrupt stop behind him, as well.

“Don’t come any closer!” Chowder threatens. “One wrong move and I’ll break it!”

“How, exactly, do you plan to break the TV dish?” Bitty demands, incredulous.

Chowder falters, then bends down and grabs a chunk of brick that’s fallen off the wall of the building, holding it demonstratively over the dish.

Nursey glances over at Dex, Bitty, and Holster, who look just as shocked as Nursey feels. Dex raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Chowder,” Dex says, voice low as if he’s speaking to an injured animal and not his best friend. “Just think about what you’re doing, alright?”

“Oh, I am thinking,” Chowder says. “Do you know how many Thanksgivings I’ve suffered in silence? Forced to watch the most boring game of all time?”

Holster lets out a disbelieving huff. “Okay, certainly let’s not act as if golf doesn’t exist.”

Chowder gives Holster a look and momentarily lowers the brick. “I think we can all agree that golf isn’t  _ actually  _ a sport.”

Holster hums contemplatively and nods.

“Chowder, just give me the brick, okay?” Dex says. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

Chowder raises the brick again, a hard glint in his eyes. “It does have to be this way, Dex. Last year, when I merely suggested changing the channel during the commercials, Holster smacked my pizza out of my hand and onto the floor.” Holster opens his mouth to interject, but Chowder continues on. “Sometimes I think it’ll be okay, you know? I think, ‘Maybe they won’t want to watch the game this year. Maybe we can do something fun instead, like watch the Dog Show or something.’ But every year it’s the same, and I can’t do anymore, alright?! Not again...not this year…”

Chowder sounds almost in tears, and Nursey blinks in shock as he watches him raise the brick higher.

“Chowder, wait!” Bitty shouts, panicked. “If you destroy our dish, how are you going to watch  _ The Bachelor _ ?”

“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Chowder says solemnly.

Dex turns to Nursey with a glare. “See, this is what happens when you let your ideas run away from you. You’ve created a monster.”

“Hey!” Nursey says, defensive. “I didn’t know this would happen!”

“If you promise not to watch the game this year, I won’t do it,” Chowder swears. “We can all go back inside. No one gets hurt.”

Holster bites his lip. “But — ”

“I’m giving you to the count of five,” Chowder says. “One...two…”

“Alright, alright!” Holster shouts. “Fine! You can watch the Dog Show instead, or whatever! Just please, don’t break the dish. I can’t survive without  _ The Bachelor. _ ”

“Me either,” Bitty says. “Alright, Chowder? You win.”

Chowder turns to Dex expectantly. “Well?”

Dex glances around at the rest of his roommates, and then, stubborn as ever, crosses his arms in front of his chest with a slight smirk. “I don’t know...what if I  _ wanted  _ to watch the game?”

“Dex!” Holster cries.

“I’m just saying, I was — ”

“Wait,” Bitty says suddenly, holding a hand up. “Do you guys smell that?”

Nursey frowns and takes a whiff of the air. “It kinda smells like...burning?”

Bitty gasps. “The turkey!” He cries, and immediately darts down the stairs. Chowder and the TV dish forgotten, the rest of the roommates follow quickly after him, bursting into the apartment to the sound of the fire alarm beeping incessantly. Bitty immediately flings the oven open, and steam pours out.

Inside is a deeply charred turkey.

Before Bitty can burst into tears, scream, or do anything equally horrifying, the door swings open and Nursey hears Ransom call, “Hey, guys! Guess who I found at the — ” His voice trails off and the five whirl around to see Ransom with a carton eggs and Jack Zimmermann.

The seven of them are silent until Jack says, a bit uncertainly, “Uh...should I order a pizza?”

\--

“Well,” Shitty says later, when the group is scattered around the living room eating their meal of salad, green beans, Pizza Hut, and beer. “It’s certainly an improvement from last year.”

“Yeah,” Lardo agrees. “The pizza is even fresh this time.”

Bitty sighs mournfully into his pizza and watches as a large poodle prances around at the National Dog Show. (When Chowder had retrieved the remote from Nursey’s room and immediately changed the channel, no one had dared to say anything. Now he sits next to Nursey, happily munching on pizza as the two of them point out which dogs they think are the cutest. Dex keeps not-so-subtly glaring in their general direction.)

“Eating rocks would be an improvement from last year,” Holster mumbles under his breath. April, who’s squeezed next to him on the couch, laughs a little around a bite of pizza, and Bitty shoots them both a dangerous look. Holster smiles sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“I don’t know,” Ransom says, thoughtful. “I feel like a shitty Thanksgiving meal has become tradition now.”

“Most people have normal Thanksgiving traditions,” Bitty grumbles.

“We don’t exactly classify as normal,” Lardo points out through a mouthful of pizza.

Bitty sighs again, but he can’t help but crack a small smile. “True.”

Still, he feels a little dejected as he gathers everyone’s plates and carries them into the kitchen to be washed. So much for a successful task to focus on until he finds a job, he thinks as he begins to scrub the marinara sauce off of Nursey’s plate. He can’t even do Thanksgiving right.

“Hey,” Jack says, slowly approaching Bitty at the sink with a shy smile. Bitty manages a smile back. He can’t believe Jack Zimmermann is going to leave tonight with his only idea of an American Thanksgiving as salad, green beans, and  _ pizza.  _ He could  _ kill  _ Ransom for inviting him to this. “Need any help with the dishes?”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Bitty says. “I’ve got it.”

Jack shrugs. “I don’t mind. It’s the least I could do as a guest.”

Jack steps next to Bitty at the sink, grabbing a hand towel from the oven. Bitty wordlessly passes him a plate, and Jack begins to dry.

_ Ah, yes,  _ Bitty thinks to himself, a little numb.  _ Jack Zimmermann is hot and talented  _ and  _ a gentleman. Of course. Makes perfect sense. _

“Thanks for letting me stay,” Jack says as he begins to stack dishes in the drying rack. Bitty tries not to think about how weirdly domestic it feels standing next to Jack at the kitchen sink.

“Thanks for pizza,” Bitty returns, and Jack shrugs with a smile. “Sorry you didn’t get to experience an authentic American Thanksgiving.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Jack says. “And there’s always next year, eh?”

Bitty isn’t quite sure if Jack means that he’s interested in coming to  _ Bitty’s  _ Thanksgiving again next year, or if he intends on going to a more talented cook’s Thanksgiving next year, and he doesn’t dare ask. “It’s just frustrating because I spent so much work on this so it should’ve turned out perfectly. But then I forgot the eggs and Chowder lost it and I burnt the turkey…”

Jack raises his eyebrows. “ _ Chowder  _ lost it?”

“He’s not as sweet and innocent as he appears.”

Jack hums thoughtfully. “Noted.”

“Anyway,” Bitty continues with on with a sigh. “I don’t know. It just feels like the world is working against me lately. I have a nutrition degree and a pretty good resume and still no one will hire me, and now I can’t get Thanksgiving right, and — ” He suddenly cuts himself off, realizing he’s just spend about five minutes whining to his neighbor, Jack Zimmermann. He feels his cheeks go pink. “Sorry, I don’t mean to unload all of this on you — ”

“You majored in  _ nutrition? _ ” Jack interrupts, sounding surprised.

“And American Studies with a concentration in Food Culture,” Bitty says, and adds a shrug, as if to say,  _ Liberal arts college, huh? _

“Hm,” Jack says, thoughtful. “Well, coincidentally. The Falconers are looking for a nutritionist. So, if you wanted, I could put a good word in.”

Bitty blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “It used to be the trainer’s job, but she just had a baby, so she wanted her job split in half so she’d have more time to spend at home.”

Bitty thinks about it. Honestly, the only reason he took on a nutrition major in college was because it was closest to what he wanted to do with his life that he could get. He never had any intentions on actually pursuing a career as a nutritionist — he thinks he’d be good at it, probably, but he’s not actually passionate about it.

Still, though, a job is a job, and Bitty’s sure it’ll pay better than the part-time bakery jobs he’s been eying as a last resort.

“If you could put in a good word for me, that’d be great,” Bitty admits.

“Sure,” Jack says with a smile. “I can forward you the application later.”

So when the night ends with Bitty in possession of Jack’s number, he decides he might end up having to thank Ransom, after all.

\--

After getting over his nervousness at the beginning of their relationship, Holster and April have been doing really well.  _ Amazingly  _ well, in fact. They’ve been dating for over a month now, and it’s definitely not the longest relationship Holster’s ever been in, but it  _ is  _ the only relationship where Holster has felt the potential for it to be a long relationship so early.

It’s just that he and April feel  _ solid _ , especially in comparison to his old relationships. They have a lot of the same interests — sports, TV sitcoms, hating bananas — and so far, they’ve had literally zero issues. Holster’s not an idiot — he knows issues are bound to arise, but he feels so sure in what he and April have right now that he really can’t see any potential issues fanning out and becoming A Thing™. 

In fact, the only issue he can think of in their relationship at all is that April and Ransom...well, they haven’t really clicked yet.

It’s not that they don’t get along or anything like that. It’s just that they don’t really talk. And it’s not even April’s fault, really — Ransom is just as much to blame as she is. Almost every time Holster invites April over, Ransom isn’t there, or is just getting ready to leave, and every time Holster explicitly asks Ransom if he wants to hang out with him and April, he always says, “No, Holster, I do  _ not  _ want to be the third wheel on your date.”

Which makes sense, actually, but still. Holster has met all of Ransom’s old girlfriends. It feels weird that he and April have been been seeing each other for two months and the most time April and Ransom have spent together was when they helped the girls moved in back in September.

“It’s just, you know what the Spice Girls say,” Holster had said to Ransom the other week, complaining about how he and April barely knew each other. “If you wanna get with me, you gotta get with my friends.”

Ransom sighed, but cracked a small smile. “Okay, okay, you’re right. Look, I promise I’ll spend time with her on Thanksgiving, okay?”

And Holster knows maybe it’s weird to worry so much about his best friend and his girlfriend spending time together. But he really likes April, and he wants April to like Ransom, too.

So, true to his word, Ransom does actually make an attempt to get to know April during their lackluster Thanksgiving meal. He’s sandwiched between the two of them on the couch, and they’ve been chatting for at least half-an-hour now, just about random shit — the latest season of  _ Bojack Horseman,  _ how Spotify is clearly superior to Apple Music, what it was like majoring in pre-med — all sorts of things. 

Admittedly, Holster feels a little silly for worrying that they wouldn’t get along. Holster generally likes what Ransom likes, and vice versa, and besides, Ransom already goes on lunch dates with March almost weekly, and March is April’s best friend. April and Ransom being friends just makes sense.

“Hey, do you wanna maybe wait in a really long line in front of Best Buy for hours with us after this?” Holster asks as he’s finishing off his last piece of pizza. “We go every year for Black Friday.”

“Or as I like to call it,” Ransom says. “Friday.”

April laughs. “Sure, I don’t have any plans after this. You’re all going?”

“Well, I don’t know about Jack,” Holster says, and April makes a face he isn’t sure is disappointed or relieved. She’d been a little starstruck when she’d gotten to the apartment and realized Jack was there, even though they’d been neighbors for two months beforehand. “And Rans doesn’t like crowds so he usually just drives us and supplies the food. But the rest of us, yeah.”

“Hm,” April says, and then smirks. “Well, spending five hours in Best Buy in the middle of the night isn’t my ideal pastime, but if you’re going to be there, it might not be too bad.”

Holster feels his face break out into a stupid grin. Luckily, no one chirps him for it.

\--

“So, what’s up with Bitty and  _ Jack Zimmermann? _ ” Farmer asks, conspiratorial, voice lowered so Bitty won’t overhear.

She’s huddled in front of Best Buy at midnight with Dex, Chowder, and Nursey, her hand linked with Chowder’s. Dex is only half-pretending to be annoyed by their subtle PDA. He thinks half of the annoyance stems only from the fact that Dex maybe wishes he had someone to hold hands with in front of Best Buy at midnight himself.

Not that Dex knows why he’s there, really, aside from the fact that he always is. Black Friday has been a tradition for him and his roommates ever since they’d moved to LA, and Dex has gone every year, despite the fact that he never buys anything. Holster, April, Bitty, Shitty, and Lardo are in line in front of them, debating the pros and cons of Lardo and Shitty getting a Nintendo Switch. Ransom, who never tags along but is always willing to drive, had dropped them off about an hour ago and is now probably en route to Taco Bell with Jack.

It’d been surprising for just about everybody when Jack had come along for the ride, too. He’d claimed he’d wanted to keep Ransom company — because, apparently, Ransom and Jack Zimmermann being friends was a thing that was happening now — but he’d spent most of the ride to Best Buy chatting with Bitty, who had giggled and blushed like he was in middle school and not twenty-six.

Hence, Farmer’s question.

“Honestly, who knows?” Nursey says with a shrug. “But how chill would it be if Bitty ended up dating a professional hockey player?”

Dex doesn’t even bother rolling his eyes at Nursey’s overuse of the word “chill.” At this point, he’s gotten used to it.

“Super chill,” Farmer agrees. And it’s only a testament to how much Dex likes Farmer that he doesn’t react to her adoption of Nursey’s signature phrase, either. Because seriously, Dex  _ really  _ likes Farmer. She’s maybe the coolest person he’s ever met, and it’s obvious that she’s perfect for Chowder in every single way. 

In fact, Dex likes Farmer so much that he hasn’t embarrassed Chowder by telling her about how he completely flew off the handle earlier that day over something as inconsequential as  _ football. That’s  _ how badly he wants Farmer to stick around.

Chowder gasps loudly, and Dex elbows him so Bitty doesn’t overhear. He immediately lowers his voice. “You think Bitty and Jack are really going to  _ date? _ ”

Honestly, Dex doesn’t, but he’s a cynic, so he’s not sure his opinion means anything.

Nursey just shrugs again. “Who knows?”

Their friends move forward an inch, and Dex breathes out a sigh of relief. They’ve been in this line for an hour, and this is the first time they’ve moved. He thinks the waiting in line is the worst part of Black Friday, although it could be easily tied with every other part of Black Friday.

Seriously, he has no idea why he agrees to this every single year.

“So,” Nursey says to Dex as Chowder and Farmer start giggling over a meme on Farmer’s phone. He’s pulled out a pack of trail-mix and is struggling to get it open. “Gonna buy any Christmas presents tonight, Dexy?”

Dex ignores the annoying nickname and shakes his head. “Nah. I typically try to keep my interactions with other people at a minimum.”

Nursey finally gets the pack of trail mix open, and gives Dex a look. “Why?”

“Because Black Friday brings out the crazy people, Nursey.”

Nursey snorts. “You always see the worst in people.”

“Yeah, because people are the worst!” Dex insists.

Nursey just rolls his eyes and munches on his trail mix. Then he nudges Dex. “Hey, you want my raisins?”

Dex narrows his eyes at Nursey, but takes the bag being extended to him. “The raisins are the best part.”

“Sure, if you take out literally every other ingredient in the trail mix,” Nursey shoots back.

Dex shakes his head, but he’s laughing a little bit as he munches on Nursey’s neglected raisins.

And standing in line, with his shoulder brushing Nursey’s, watching Farmer laugh at Chowder’s jokes and Shitty animatedly recount a story about a customer from the bar earlier that day, he maybe remembers why he says yes to this every single year.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no knowledge of cooking turkey or literally anything else so pretend the timeline of how long everything took to make in this chapter was accurate
> 
> UP NEXT: the gang plays True American


	4. True American I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty goes out of town for a Falconers game, Holster and Ransom are invited to a coworker's wedding, and Nursey, Dex, and Chowder are left to their own devices at the loft all weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really wanted to get this chapter out earlier but unfortunately...life happened. Also, this chapter got SO LONG that I had to split it into two chapters!!
> 
> Also, feel free to imagine Maya Rodriguez (who is an OC and is not in Check, please) as whoever you'd like her to look like, but please know in my mind I've been referring to her as "guest star Gina Rodriguez."
> 
> Also, please know: I know nothing about hockey. Please keep this in mind while reading this chapter and also the next one and probably more in the future.
> 
> And again, if you're looking for something to listen to while you read, feel free to check out my playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/gracemcgready/playlist/3p1LgJ0P3SCtBUut5Px4pJ?si=QxXdjClRTPSbKPunLdD0jA

On Bitty’s first day as the Falconer’s nutritionist, he feels more nervous than he’s ever felt on his first day at a job. Maybe more nervous than he’s felt _ever_ , except for playoffs his senior year and the regional pie-baking contest he entered in eighth grade.

As he climbs out of his car and walks through the parking lot and towards the stadium, he tries to remind himself that those are two things he won.

Blessedly, the first person Bitty sees when he walks through the front doors of the stadium is Jack. He’s leaning against the brick wall by the water fountain, chatting with someone on the phone. It’s probably his Dad, if the few French phrases Bitty recognizes from the class he barely scraped by in college are anything to go by, but as soon as he spots Bitty he grins broadly.

Bitty tries not to let it get to his head.

Jack murmurs a goodbye before hanging up the phone and leaning away from the wall. “Hey,” he says as Bitty begins to walk towards him. “Excited for your first day?”

“Uh, something like that,” Bitty says, hoping he doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels. “Um, thank you again, by the way. For helping me get this job.”

Though, honestly, _helping_ is putting it lightly. Bitty’s almost positive he wouldn’t be standing in this stadium if it weren’t for Jack. After going over Bitty’s application, giving his coaches a word of recommendation, and coaching Bitty for his interview, Jack has been nothing but supportive.

Which is why Bitty feels guilty every time he searches Jack’s smiles and laughs and welcomed advice for any indication that his feelings go beyond friendly support. Bitty is lucky enough that Jack is just his _friend_ — it’d be selfish to ask for more.

Besides, it’s not like Bitty’s feelings for Jack are anything more than attraction and a tiny, insignificant little crush.

Probably.

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Jack says with a shrug. “It was really no problem.”

“Still,” Bitty says. He doesn’t want to say “thank you” for the second time in the past thirty seconds or the thirtieth time in the past couple of weeks, but he wants Jack to know how much Bitty appreciates his help.

Jack nods his head towards the door to the locker room. “Ready to meet the team?”

Bitty swallows. “Um, sure.” Jack shoots him a grin and then turns to walk down the hall. But before he gets too far, Bitty calls out, “Hey, wait!”

Jack pauses and looks back over his shoulder. “Hm?”

Bitty chews his lip and plays with the loose thread at the end of his sweater. “It’s just — look, when I played hockey at Samwell, I was blessed with a really supportive and really welcoming team. But I know that not all hockey teams are super welcoming, especially for people who are — well. Me.” He laughs nervously, avoiding Jack’s gaze. “And I’m just — I guess I’m just nervous that maybe this is one of those teams.”

Jack is quiet for a moment. Finally, he says, “You know….on my first day with the Falconers, I was pretty nervous, too.” Bitty’s expression must change, because Jack laughs and says, “Don’t look so surprised. Look, I was — you know, the first in the draft, right out of high school. Which was a dream come true but also really terrifying. I felt like there was so much pressure on me, but most of it was coming from myself, and it got so bad that I had to step back and take a break. And when I was finally ready to play again, I didn’t think anyone would want me. But the Falconers did, and even though I was reluctant to play for an expansion team, and I was worried I’d forgotten how to play good hockey, I signed on anyway. And I was welcomed with open arms immediately. So I can say with 100% confidence that you have nothing to worry about, okay?”

Bitty smiles a little, uncertain but hopeful. “Yeah?”

Jack smiles back, wide and sure. “Yeah. And _if_ they ever said or did anything to make you uncomfortable...I’d take care of it.”

After Bitty says, “Okay,” and follows Jack into the locker room, he has two alarming realizations. The first is that even though he sort of hated Jack Zimmermann a few months ago, he trusts him completely. And the second alarming realization is that Bitty’s feelings for Jack go far beyond a tiny, insignificant crush than he’d prefer to believe.

 _Damn it,_ Bitty thinks to himself, and then tries to push these alarming realizations to the side so he can get through his first day at his new job without panicking.

\--

The first thing Nursey says when he enters the loft Friday after work is, “If I had the opportunity to challenge anyone to a duel, it’d be Maya Rodriguez.”

Shitty, who’s sitting on the couch with the rest of Nursey’s roommates, pauses _Love Actually_ to raise an eyebrow at Nursey. “Who the hell is Maya Rodriguez?”

At the same time, Ransom asks, “You’d fight a woman?”

Nursey groans and drops his bag onto the floor next to the couch. “She’s that one PTA mom. You know, the one that’s ruining my life.” Shitty gives Nursey a knowing look, which he pointedly ignores. “And Ransom, I said I’d duel her, not fight her. There’s a difference.”

Ransom turns to Holster. “Is there?”

Holster just shrugs.

“The worst thing about her,” Nursey continues, without prompting, “Is that my boss told me I can’t call her out or anything because she’s this hella rich, important CEO and donates more to the school than I make in like, a year.”

With a sigh, Nursey grabs an opened beer sitting at the coffee table and takes a long sip. The beer is Chowder’s, who makes a half-hearted attempt to stop Nursey from drinking his beer but stops when Bitty sends him a warning look. Resigned, Chowder sighs and leans back against the couch. “So what did she do _this_ time?”

“She complained about my teaching style! To my _face!_ ” Nursey growls in frustration and takes another long sip of Chowder’s beer. “Some bullshit about how I should spend less time ‘forcing’ her kid to participate in dream-cess because she wants him to know fractions by the time he gets to middle school.”

Bitty squints at Nursey. “ _Dream-cess?_ ”

“ _I follow the curriculum, Bitty!_ ”

“And what did you say?” Dex asks, because he’s heard enough of Nursey’s rants on the importance of dream-cess to know it’s a matter he takes seriously.

Nursey looks down and begins to peel at the label of Chowder’s beer bottle. “I, uh, told her that I wasn’t going to change my classroom just because she didn’t like it.”

“Huh,” Ransom says. “I mean, that’s not too bad.”

Nursey winces. “And then I told her that her kid loves dream-cess and if she was unaware of that then maybe she should spend more time with him.”

Ransom and Holster whistle in unison.

“Damn, Nursey,” Shitty says.

Nursey groans and plops into the empty seat on the couch between Chowder and Dex. “I know! And now my boss is forcing me to go to Maya’s office and apologize next week just in case she decides to pull her donation from the school.”

Chowder’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “Would she actually do that?”

“Maybe?” Nursey frowns. “I don’t know. She could if she wanted to. She’s one of those people that has it all together, you know? She comes to PTA meetings in blazers and pantsuits all the time and makes me feel like an idiot because I’m always wearing something stupid, like a sweater with cats on it.”

“Hey,” Holster says. “You _rock_ that sweater.”

“She always looks amazing, you know? It’s like she makes a point to brag about how put-together her life is,” Nursey grumbles.

Lardo shoots Nursey a look, then takes a sip of her beer. “Yeah, okay. Does anyone else feel like they’re watching the beginning of a romantic comedy and they’re waiting for Nursey and Hot PTA Mom to do something about their unresolved sexual tension and mutual attraction?”

“Yep,” everyone choruses in unison.

Nursey nearly chokes on Chowder’s beer. “What?” He splutters. “I’ve never — there is no attraction!”

Dex raises his eyebrows. “Oh really? Then what was she wearing today?”

“I don’t know! I mean, like, she’d curled her hair because she always does, and she had on this really red lipstick and a navy blue pantsuit because she always looks professional but in like, a fun way? Like she always has some sort of burst of color in her outfits, which honestly I think is — ” He stops suddenly when he realizes everyone is staring at him, and then groans. “Okay, whatever! So I think she’s hot! I have eyes! It doesn’t make her any less frustrating.”

“Sure,” Bitty says, clearly unconvinced.

“I just — ugh! Whatever. I hate you guys,” Nursey grumbles. “I’m almost glad you’re all leaving tomorrow.”

They’re not _all_ leaving — Shitty and Lardo have to work at the bar, and Dex and Chowder, who have nothing to do, will be home all weekend. But Bitty’s going to an away game for the Falconers in San Jose (Chowder had been beside himself with jealousy when he learned Bitty was getting to see the Sharks _in person_ as a  _job perk_ ), and Ransom and Holster are going to Santa Barbara for a coworker’s wedding.

Ransom and Holster are clearly excited for their trip, though Holster’s had a mischievous look in his eye all week. Meanwhile, Bitty’s feelings towards the Falconers’ game seem to be a little conflicted. Nursey thinks it has something to do with the idea of spending the weekend in close quarters with Jack Zimmermann, who Bitty has a not-so-subtle crush on, but Nursey’s trying not to pry.

“Oh, shut up, you know you’ll miss us,” Ransom says to Nursey with an eye-roll. Nursey, childishly, makes a face at him.

“I wish you guys _weren’t_ leaving,” Chowder says mournfully. “I mean, this is our last weekend together before we all go home for Christmas.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Holster groans. “I _hate_ Christmas. First of all, it means Hanukkah is over, and second of all, it means you guys all leave and go home.”

“Maybe we can do something fun together Sunday night,” Bitty suggests.

“Like…” Shitty trails off, and the corner of his mouth tugs up into a grin. “True American?”

“YES!” Lardo, Holster, and Ransom shout.

“NO,” Nursey says at the same time. “I am not playing True American on a Sunday night. I teach _children._ ”

“You just wanna suck the fun out of everything,” Dex accuses.

“That is literally you describing yourself,” Nursey declares before shoving Dex for good measure. Dex shoves him back.

Ransom raises his eyebrows at Chowder. “You sure you can survive being stuck with those two all weekend?”

“Aw, it’ll be fine,” Chowder says with a shrug. “We can have a special Frog Weekend.”

Nursey stops making Dex hit himself to raise his eyebrows. “Frog Weekend?” He repeats.

“Yeah,” Chowder says. “Our freshman year, Bitty and everyone dubbed us the ‘frogs,’ and then it stuck. And Nursey, obviously you didn’t go to Samwell with us, but if you did, you would’ve been in the same year, so, I figured we could include you in the Frogs.”

It’s probably lame how touched Nursey feels, but Dex and Chowder are best friends. That Chowder is including Nursey in something that only the two of them share feels...well, special. “Aw, Chowder, that’s — ”

“Oh yeah,” Ransom says with a decisive nod. “Nursey is _definitely_ a Frog.”

Holster laughs in agreement, and Nursey rolls his eyes. It sounded nicer when Chowder was saying it.

“Anyway!” Chowder continues, nudging Nursey on the shoulder with a grin. “It'll be fun! We'll be able to all the fun things we can’t do when the other guys are around.”

Nursey grins back at him.

\--

On Saturday morning, after Shitty and Lardo have gone to work and Bitty, Ransom, and Holster have left the loft and said their goodbyes, Dex says, “So, Chowder. What did you have in mind?”

Chowder, who’s just finished locking the loft, turns to Dex and Nursey. “Hm?”

“You said we could hang out and do the things we can’t do when the other guys are around,” Dex reminds him. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh,” Chowder says. Dex and Nursey just blink at him. “Well, I guess we could…” He hesitates. “I mean, we could always — ”

“You don’t have any ideas, do you?” Dex asks, deadpan.

And that’s how Chowder, Dex, and Nursey end up in a booth of the corner of Shitty and Lardo’s bar at eleven in the morning.

“And how exactly is this different from something you’d do while the others are here?” Lardo asks them as she takes their order.

“Just give us some beers, Lardo,” Nursey grumbles.

Lardo smirks but says nothing, walking away to grab their drinks.

“It’s still early,” Chowder says, always the optimist. “We still have plenty of time. And there’s plenty of things we can do.”

“Like?”

Chowder shoots Dex a look. He’s been awfully grumpy today. Like, way more than usual. “We could see the new Marvel movie that’s out?”

“We could,” Nursey agrees. “We could never see that with Holster or Bitty. Holster’s too loud to see any movie with, and Bitty would just ask questions the entire time.”

“We could also go to to Walmart and buy as many Oreos as we can afford,” suggests Chowder.

“That idea’s not half-bad,” Dex admits, and really, it’s not. Bitty loses it any time he spots any sort of store-bought baked good in the loft, and treats it like a personal attack against him. And Chowder would be pretty content to spend his Saturday night stuffing himself full of Oreos. He’s had far worse Saturday nights.

“See!” Chowder says, triumphant. “I told you I had ideas.”

“Look, I’m chill with whatever,” Nursey declares. “Anything to distract me from the reality that I have to drive to Maya’s fancy CEO office and grovel on Monday.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Lardo says, as she arrives with their beers and the club sandwich and fries Nursey ordered.

“I’m not!” Nursey says. “I’m anxious, alright? Last night I had a nightmare that as soon as I got there, Maya turned into, like. This really scary lady with wonky eyes and sharp teeth.”

Dex raises his eyebrows. “Kinky.”

Chowder chokes on his beer, and Lardo snorts so loudly that the table next to them gives her a look. She gives them a dirty look in return when she leaves to go take another table's orders.

“First of all, gross,” Nursey says to Dex after Lardo's left, cutting him an unamused look. “Second of all, inaccurate. And third of all — holy fucking shit.”

Dex blinks at Nursey, who’s now staring over Dex’s shoulder in abject horror. “What?”

“She’s here,” Nursey says, eyes wide.

“ _What?_ ” Dex repeats.

“ _Maya!_ ” Nursey hisses. “Maya’s here!” Then he promptly ducks his head behind the napkin dispenser at their booth.

Chowder raises an eyebrow and follows Nursey’s panicked line of sight, where a woman in a black pleated dress and heels stands at the bar, laughing with Shitty as she runs a hand through her dark curly hair. “Wow, Nursey! She _is_ attractive.”

“Stop it!” Nursey hisses. Chowder whirls back around and winces, apologetic. “Pretend you’re talking to me!”

“We _are_ talking to you,” Dex says, deadpan.

Nursey ignores him. “What is she even doing here? We’re in a bar and it’s not even noon.”

“I mean... _we’re_ here,” Chowder points out.

“That’s different,” Nursey insists.

“She’s probably just here to progress the plot further along,” Johnson suggests, materializing next to their table as he has a usual tendency to do.

“Not now, Johnson,” Nursey grits out. Johnson mumbles an apology and walks away.

“Why is it so bad if she sees you?” Dex asks.

“Because if she sees me then I have to apologize,” Nursey says. Chowder peeks over his shoulder again to watch Shitty go help another customer, and Maya turns her back to the three of them, looking over the bar’s menu. Once Nursey’s sure she’s not paying attention, he comes up from behind the napkin dispenser. “Also, I’m wearing a  _ratty Harvard_ _t-shirt._ ”

Dex turns to Chowder, giving him a look. Chowder sighs and turns to Nursey. “Look, Nursey, I’m going to tell you something you probably don’t want to hear.”

“Please don’t.”

Chowder sighs again, because Nursey is maybe the most stubborn person he’s ever met, aside from Dex. “I think you’re intimidated by Maya not because she’s a scary PTA Mom, but because you’re attracted to her and you’re scared to put yourself back out there after Noah.”

Nursey makes a noise at the back of his throat. “I’m — ”

“Not to mention,” Chowder continues, ignoring Nursey’s protests, “That Maya is a capable woman with a stable and impressive job, and if you were with her, you’d be in a relationship with someone who can actually take care of you instead of you taking care of them, and that intimidates you.”

Nursey gapes at Chowder. “That is _not —_ ”

“Yeah, I think he’s right,” Dex agrees. Nursey turns to look at Dex with betrayal, and Dex narrows his eyes at him. “Seriously? Did you not once tell me that Noah didn’t use _sheets?_ ”

Nursey avoids Dex’s gaze to take a sip of his beer. “He slept on towels instead.”

“I rest my case,” Dex declares, leaning back against the booth.

Nursey turns to Chowder, who just gives him a sympathetic smile. Finally, Nursey sighs, slumping against his seat, defeated. Chowder knows Nursey knows they’re right — he can tell by the way he takes a huge bite of his sandwich to avoid talking for a few minutes.

And Chowder’s not trying to meddle with Nursey’s love life — despite how much he secretly loves to meddle. It’s just that Noah really hurt Nursey’s self-esteem and broke his trust, but he’s seen how bright and radiant Nursey has grown since moving in with them, and he thinks being with someone like Maya could be a really good next step for Nursey getting back on his feet, and Chowder hates seeing Nursey deny himself something that could be good for him.

Finally, Nursey opens his mouth, and Chowder politely ignores the half of the sandwich that’s still in there. “Look...it’s not that you’re _wrong._ It’s just that — ”

And then Chowder sees Nursey meet Maya’s eyes across the bar and start to cough.

Chowder waits patiently for Nursey to swallow, while Dex simply raises an eyebrow. Neither of them are very alarmed; in their defense, Nursey _is_ prone to dramatics.

“Nursey, are you okay?” Chowder asks, finally, after it’s been several seconds and Nursey _still_ hasn’t stopped coughing.

When Nursey is coughing too hard to answer, Dex’s eyes widen and he moves closer to Nursey, thumping on his back. “Nursey, you alright?” He demands, but Nursey is still unable to answer. “Derek?!”

Panicked, Chowder immediately springs into action, standing and yelling, “Help! My friend is choking! Is there a doctor?”

Chowder watches Lardo carelessly drop the glass she was cleaning with a crash and bolt towards their table, but before she arrives, Maya Rodriguez beats her to it.

“I’m First Aid certified,” Maya informs Chowder, confident and calm as she steps in front of Nursey, who is vehemently shaking his head at her. If Chowder wasn’t so freaked out, he’d think it was funny.

“It’s alright, Mr. Nurse,” Maya tells Nursey, moving to step behind him. Nursey shoots Chowder, Dex, and Lardo a panicked look, but it doesn’t do much good, because Chowder, Dex, and Lardo are looking back at Nursey, just as panicked. And then, before Nursey can even protest, Maya wraps her arms around his middle, squeezes a few times, and Nursey spits a huge chunk of sandwich right onto Chowder’s Sharks shirt.

Nursey bends down, hands on knees, wheezing, and Maya steps away from him. Lardo looks between the two of them with wide eyes. “Rom-com,” she decides, and Nursey stops wheezing enough to glare at her.

When he finally straightens, Nursey meets Chowder’s panicked gaze with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about your shirt, dude.”

Chowder just stares, and Dex makes an outraged noise. “Why the fuck are you apologizing?” He demands. He’s doing that thing he usually does where he acts mean and angry to hide the fact that he’s worried. Luckily, Chowder is just as worried, so he doesn’t bring it up. “He has hundreds of shirts just like it.”

Maya steps in front of Nursey, concern drawing her eyebrows together. “Are you okay, Mr. Nurse?”

Chowder can confirm that Nursey is 100% not okay, if the shaking in his hands is anything to go by, but, predictably, Nursey says, “Oh yeah, it’s chill. I’m fine.”

Chowder rolls his eyes so hard he thinks he gets a migraine.

“Are you sure?” Maya asks. She has frown lines in the skin around her mouth. Chowder supposes that’s the sort of thing you get when you’re a CEO. “Because this could’ve turned out much worse.”

“Worse?” Chowder repeats. He feels a little faint. “How much worse?”

Lardo pats his hand and shushes him.

“I’m fine, really,” Nursey insists. “I’m sorry I — ”

He cuts himself off. Chowder’s not sure if he’s going to say, “I’m sorry I ruined your eleven o’clock visit to the cheapest bar on this side of town,” or “I’m sorry I nearly died.” In the end, Nursey just laughs in a self-depreciating way. “And you’re a First Aider, huh? Wow. I mean, like, of course you are, you know?”

Maya’s frown deepens. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“No!” Nursey finally bursts out. Maya’s eyes widen. “I mean, yes! I mean — look, I’m not  getting rid of dream-cess, alright?”

Maya blinks. “What?”

Nursey sighs. “My boss wanted me to apologize to you for what I said the other day,” he explains. “But in order for me to apologize I’d have to be sorry, and I’m not sorry that you hate the way I teach because it’s not going to make me change it. Leo loves dream-cess, alright? And just because he loves it doesn’t mean he’s not learning his fractions and I don’t care if you pull your donation from the school, I’m not going to — ”

“Pull my donation?” Maya repeats quizzically. Nursey hesitates. “I’m not going to pull my donation. I’d never do that.”

Nursey’s shoulders slump. “Oh,” he says, surprised.

“And I never said I hate the way you teach, either,” Maya continues. She pauses, then says, “I actually— ”

“Nursey!” Shitty interrupts, rushing up to their table. “Sorry, Johnson roped me into another one of his weird conversations — I had no idea there was an emergency. Are you alright? Do we need to call an ambulance?”

“You’re a bit late, dude,” Lardo informs him with a slight eye-roll.

“I’m fine, Shitty,” Nursey assures Shitty quickly. “Um, Maya..helped.” He nods to her a little awkwardly, but Maya just smiles back. “Thank you for that, by the way. And, uh, I’m sorry for — well — ”

And, okay, Chowder can’t watch this awkward exchange any longer without doing something about it. “He’s sorry for making assumptions about you that were incorrect,” he finally jumps in.

Nursey shoots him a look. Chowder just beams back innocently. He thinks he hears Dex snort from next to him.

Maya’s mouth tugs up in an amused grin. “Oh, he is?”

“Yep,” Chowder says with a firm nod. “And he’d also really like the chance to get to know you better so he could correct his incorrect assumptions.”

“Chowder — ” Nursey hisses.

“That sounds great, actually,” Maya says. Nursey blinks, shocked. Dex snorts again. “Is there a certain time he’d like to meet for that to happen?”

“He’s all booked up on bonding time this weekend, unfortunately,” Chowder says. “But if you’d like to come over to our apartment Sunday night, you could join all of us for the most entertaining drinking game ever invented.”

Nursey tries to protest, but Maya cuts him off.

“A drinking game on a school night?” She asks with raised eyebrows, though the amusement in her eyes betrays any attempt at appearing stern.

Dex shrugs. “The kids will probably just watch a movie the next day.”

Maya laughs at that. “Well, I actually only stopped by the bar to hang up posters for my company’s charity auction next week, so I really do need to get going.”

Nursey mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, “Of course you did.” Chowder’s starting to think that Maya is objectively the most perfect human being alive.

“But I’d love to come,” Maya admits, maybe a little shy. Nursey blinks again, and she says to Chowder, “If I gave you my number, do you think you could pass it along to Derek?”

“I’ll definitely make sure he gets it,” Chowder assures her somberly.

And then Nursey is watching in astonishment as Maya scribbles her number on a napkin and passes it to Chowder. Chowder just grins, smug.

When Maya hands Chowder the napkin and shrugs on her hot pink blazer before heading out the door, Nursey finally turns to Chowder, still gaping. “I hate you,” he finally says.

Chowder just grins brightly at him. “No you don’t.”

\--

When Ransom and Holster arrive at the hotel room Abby booked for their stay, the first thing Ransom notices is how nice the hotel room is. There’s an oven, and a TV built into the mirror in the bathroom, and there’s even a fancy swan made of towels on their bed.

The next thing Ransom notices is that there’s only one bed.

“It’s not like this will be the first time we’ve shared a bed,” Holster points out when he notices Ransom give the bed a weird look.

Holster’s not wrong, of course. He and Ransom sleep in bunk beds — have since Samwell — and when Ransom is too lazy or, usually, too drunk, to climb to the top bunk, they share the bottom.

The thing that gives Ransom pause at all is the fact that Abby assigned her coworkers who are admittedly very close friends but are not in a relationship that is sexual or romantic in any way a hotel room with only one bed.

“I know,” Ransom says to Holster now as he drops his suitcase on the left side of the bed, claiming it as his own. “But...did all of her other guests end up in rooms with only one bed? Or was it just us?”

Holster shrugs. “She probably just made a mistake, bro.”

“Probably,” Ransom agrees, even though Abby is one of the most organized people he knows. She even plans her lunches down to the tee — it’s unlike her to overlook something like this.

Still, though, weddings are stressful, and Abby’s had a lot to plan over the past year. It’s not unlikely that she made a simple mistake.

Or maybe it wasn't a mistake, and Holster's theory that Abby has it out for him has some truth behind it, after all.

“So,” Ransom says as he begins unpacking his suitcase, ignoring Holster’s protests that they’re only staying one night. Holster would choose to live out of his suitcase no matter how long the trip was. “Are you going to spend all weekend moping about how April couldn’t come, or are you going to actually enjoy the wedding?”

Originally, Ransom and Holster had asked March and April, respectively, to be their plus ones. But March claimed she’d be busy with work that weekend, and April had dropped out of the wedding a few weeks ago after remembering she had a conference scheduled.

Secretly, Ransom wonders if April’s mysterious drop from the wedding has anything to do with Holster uninviting her so Ransom wouldn’t be lonely. Holster would’ve had nothing to worry about — Ransom is fine with being single for right now. Really, he is.

And if sometimes he feels his eye twitch when he sees Holster and April together or hears Holster or a slightly tipsy Chowder talk about how good the sex they’ve been having lately has been, no one else has to know.

“Oh, trust me, I have bigger plans for this weekend, Rans,” Holster says with a mischievous grin. When Ransom just stares at him, Holster continues, “Do you remember the holiday party of 2018?”

“Vividly,” Ransom says, because he’d have a hard time _not_ remembering the holiday party of 2018. Harriet’s casserole had been cold, Nick had forgotten the wine, and Holster had released a bird in the break room as a prank.

“Well, this time, we’re going bigger,” Holster declares, and places an animal crate with a skunk in it on the bed.

“What the — ” Ransom gapes. “How the hell did you sneak that into the hotel?”

“I have my ways,” Holster says with a shrug. “So what’s the plan? I’m thinking release it into the air duct during the ceremony, let it skunk the place up?”

“Holster,” Ransom says, flabbergasted. “I am not helping you release a skunk at our coworker’s wedding.”

“You helped me with the bird!” Holster points out. “And Abby thought that was funny.”

“I helped you with the bird because that party was so boring that just about anything would’ve made an improvement,” Ransom says. “And Abby thought it was funny because Rachel organized the party and any opportunity to ruin Rachel’s day is something Abby takes enjoyment in.”

“Rans, dude, c’mon,” Holster practically whines. “I haven’t pulled a prank in _ages._ ”

“That’s because you _suck_ at pranks, Holster!” Ransom shouts. “You either go way too big, or way too small.”

“That’s not true!” Holster objects. “I’m the _best_ at pranks. They call me Prank Sinatra!”

Ransom gives him a look. “Your last prank was hiding the hand soap underneath the sink and the prank before that was registering Shitty as a sex offender.”

Holster immediately snickers at that. “You should’ve seen the look on his face!”

Ransom _had_ seen the look on his face. It was equal parts horrified and shocked. He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not helping you with this.”

“Ransy-poo, c'mon,” Holster says. And Ransom sighs, because he hates that nickname. It's Holster's version of a puppy-dog face. “I mean — I'm definitely still Prank Sinatra. But everything works out so much better when we're working _together._ We're a team! You're like...my Mia Farrow.” He hesitates, and then amends, “Mia Prank-o.”

“That was terrible.”

“I know. But c'mon, please? Just think about how satisfying the look on Abby's face will be.”

Ransom can picture the look on Abby's face, and admittedly, it would be satisfying. But Ransom thinks it'd probably be more satisfying to enjoy the wedding like a normal person and avoid Abby's wrath for eternity. Last month, Abby overheard Larry Anderson shit-talking her in the break-room, and purposefully told him the wrong time for their staff meeting a week later, and had then had to faced the wrath of their company's manager. Ransom doesn't want to be the next Larry.

“Sorry, bro,” Ransom says. “You're on your own with this one." Holster pouts but, thankfully, doesn't push it. “And where did you even  _get_ a skunk, anyway?”

Holster just grins.

“Nevermind," Ransom shakes his head. “I don't want to know.”

\--

“So, now that we’ve saddled Nursey with a date…” Dex begins once they’re back in the loft.

Nursey does the signature head-duck move he does whenever he’s embarrassed. “Not a date,” he mutters.

Unperturbed, Dex continues on, “And we’ve all witnessed a near-death experience, what’s next on the agenda for Frog Weekend?”

“I vote we swing by the store and buy all the snacks we can,” Chowder says. “And then we can sneak some of the snacks into the movie later.”

“Ooh, smart,” Nursey says, giving Chowder a thumbs-up.

“Okay, but uh, you might wanna fix that before we go,” Dex says.

Dex points to Chowder’s shirt, and Chowder looks down at Nursey’s coughed up mushy sandwich, which is rapidly drying and looks well on its way to becoming a permanent fixture to Chowder’s shirt. He wrinkles his noses at it. “Oh yeah.”

Nursey makes an apologetic face. “Sorry again, dude.”

“Nursey, if you apologize one more time for nearly dying, I’m going to punch you,” says Chowder, who can still conjure up the threatening goalie presence from college when he wants to. “Besides, it’s no big deal. I’ll just wash it.”

“Oh?” Dex tries not to sound as surprised as he feels.

“Yeah,” Chowder says, peeling off the shirt and making his way into the kitchen. “I’ll just — you know. Douse it in some water. Maybe use some dishwashing soap…”

Dex wanders over to the kitchen sink to stand next to Chowder. He thinks, for a moment, about not saying anything. But he really can’t help but ask, “Why don’t you just use the washing machine?”

“Washing machine?” Chowder repeats.

“Yeah,” Dex says, voice far too casual. “Unless, I don’t know. You can’t.”

Chowder freezes.

Nursey looks between the two of them. “Wait, what’s going on here?”

“Oh, nothing,” Dex says easily. “Just that I’ve known Chowder since freshman year of college and I’ve never once seen him do laundry.”

Nursey turns back to Chowder, eyes wide with excitement. He looks like it’s Christmas morning. “Wait, is that true?”

Chowder laughs, once. A too-loud laugh. “C’mon, you guys are being silly.”

“Oh really?” Dex says. “Then do it. Wash your shirt, we’ll watch.”

So Dex and Nursey end up in the laundry room, watching as Chowder throws his shirt in the dryer, pulls out the lint collector, and holds it over the detergent dispenser in the washing machine as he pours detergent through it.

“What...the fuck,” Nursey says.

“Just straining the detergent,” Chowder says, cool as a cucumber, though his eye twitches once.

“Of course,” Dex agrees.

Then Chowder tosses the lint collector into the dryer with the shirt, closes the door shut, and presses the “Light Colors” button on the washing machine.

When, predictably, nothing happens, Chowder says, “Oh, right, I forgot the quarters.”

“Right,” Dex nods.

And Nursey watches with astonishment as Chowder drops four quarters into the washing machine’s detergent compartment, and shuts it firmly closed.

When nothing happens after Chowder repeatedly presses buttons on the dryer with no results, Dex says, “Chowder — ”

“Alright, I don’t know how to do laundry!” Chowder shouts.

“I know you don’t, Chowder!” Dex shouts back. “You’ve been throwing in your dirty laundry with mine when you thought I wasn’t looking for _years!_ ”

“I’m sorry, alright!” Chowder cries. “No one ever taught me when I was younger and then when I tried to learn in college all the Lax Bros in the laundry room our freshman year laughed so I panicked and left! And by then the window of time where it was acceptable to learn something as basic as laundry had closed! And you never said anything about my laundry getting mixed in with yours so I assumed you didn’t care, and — ”

“Chowder,” Dex interrupts. “Relax. Take a deep breath.”

Chowder does.

“Look, dude, I understand,” Nursey confesses. “I mean, I’ve never told anyone this but...I don’t know how to read a ruler.”

“Are you…” Dex blinks. “Wait, are you serious?”

“I just never knew where to start. Is it at the first tick or is at the edge, you know?”

Chowder just stares. “Nursey, if you know how to count then you should know how to use a ruler.”

“Oh, what do you know?” Nursey snaps, defensive. “You can’t even wash your own underwear.”

“Hey!” Dex shouts. “Stop fighting! They’re both super easy things!”

Nursey frowns and crosses his arms, and Chowder mumbles something under his breath.

“You know what?” Dex says. “I’m teaching you guys right now.”

“Wait, really?” Chowder sounds hopeful.

“Yeah,” Dex shrugs. “Frog Weekend, right?”

Chowder beams.

What follows next can only be described as a montage of Dex teaching Nursey and Chowder how to accomplish basic tasks. He has half a mind to turn on some cheesy 80’s music, just to fit the mood.

Dex starts with Nursey, who he sits on the couch and hands a ruler. “So you start with the tick, not the edge,” Dex explains as Nursey twirls the ruler around in his hands experimentally. “And — well, that’s it, really.”

“Chill!” Nursey says brightly.

Then Dex proceeds to teach Chowder how to wash laundry. He starts by teaching him to measure the detergent in the cap — admittedly, it takes Chowder a little while to understand that the line in the cap is not a suggestion — but finally, Chowder’s learned how to load the detergent, select the right button for the specific wash on the machine, and hit the “Start” button, all in the span of almost two hours.

Which is, admittedly, a long time to learn how to do laundry. Dex is politely not bringing that up.

“But wait, what about bleach?” Chowder asks, idly swirling the detergent in the cap.

Dex laughs, and calls to Nursey, who’s been running around the loft measuring random objects for about an hour, “Hey! Chowder wants to know about bleach!”

Nursey, in the midst of measuring the length of the Douchebag Jar, snickers. “Let’s walk before we can run, huh, Chowder?”

Admittedly, Chowder has a little bit of trouble figuring out what button to press — “What about permanent press?” “That’s a fake button, nobody uses it” — but when he finally hits “warm-cold,” the machine whirs to life. “I did it!” Chowder shouts, excited.

“You did it!” Dex cheers, clapping him on the shoulder.

“ _We_ did it!” Nursey shouts, engulfing his friends in a group hug. Dex rolls his eyes, but doesn’t shove him away. “Frog Weekend!”

They collapse across the couches in the living room, later, lazing around in comfortable silence that’s broken only by the consistent hum of the washing machine and Nursey’s laugh every time Chowder shows him a funny video he found on Twitter. It’s...really nice, actually. Ever since his break-up with Liam, things could be better for Dex. But lying here with Chowder and Nursey, doing nothing at all, Dex feels sort of content and sort of happy. And maybe Chowder and Nursey are idiots who have trouble completing basic tasks, but they’re _Dex’s_ idiots, and more importantly, they’re Dex’s favorite idiots.

“Hey,” Dex says finally, after they’ve been lying around for about an half an hour. Chowder and Nursey look over at him. “We could still make it to the movie tonight, if we wanted.”

“Sure,” Chowder agrees easily, sitting up and stretching. Nursey, who lies next to him, twisting the ruler around in his hands, sits up as well. “I mean, I feel like I could do just about anything now. I feel like a new man.”

“Same. Like, what can’t Dex do, you know?” Nursey asks.

Dex, predictably, flushes. “Oh, shut up. I can’t do a lot of things.” Nursey raises his eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. “I mean, I never learned how to spell Wednesday.”

Chowder shrugs. “Who did?” He says good-naturedly.

Nursey gives him an incredulous look. “It’s...it’s WED - NES - DAY,” he hisses.

“Shut up,” Chowder hisses back.

“I can’t say the Alphabet backwards,” Dex continues. “Can’t say it frontwards, either, unless I’m singing the song. And I never learned how to love.”

Nursey sets down his ruler and Chowder frowns, and Dex really doesn’t like the way either of them are looking at him, so he laughs nervously. “But enough about me. C’mon, it’s Frog Weekend!”

Nursey ignores him. He’s frowning, too. “Dex...that’s heavy.”

Dex fidgets. “It’s not — ”

“Yeah, Dex,” Chowder agrees. His eyebrows are furrowed with concern. “I feel like that’s something we should talk about.”

“Oh, pssh, I mean — ” Dex laughs nervously again, but Chowder and Nursey are still staring at him thoughtfully. He sighs. They were having a nice night. Of course he had to go and fuck it up by making things awkward. “What, guys, are we just gonna sit around and talk about love all night?”

And that’s how Dex finds himself under a blanket fort with Nursey and Chowder on either side of him, crooning the lyrics to I Want To Know What Love Is by Foreigner.

Honestly, it’s a situation he’d find weird if it were anyone else, but it’s Chowder and Nursey. And in any ordinary circumstances, Dex would be more annoyed. But the circumstances aren’t all that ordinary, because Dex, Chowder, and Nursey are pretty drunk.

“It’s just,” Dex says, and tilts his head back to gaze up at the pattern of his comforter, which Chowder had dragged off his bed for their fort. “You know that song where they go, ‘Hello? Is it me you’re looking for?’”

“Sing it, Dex,” Nursey says solemnly.

“It’s a sad song,” Chowder agrees.

Dex’s comforter is blue and red plaid, and looking at the pattern he sees every night when he goes to bed makes him feel kind of sleepy, but he also feels kind of comfortable. “I wanna be the person someone is looking for,” he admits. “But...it’s like, why would someone think of me as that person? What do I have to offer?”

“Dex,” Chowder says mournfully, and shakes Dex’s knee. “Don’t say that. You have _plenty_ to offer.”

“Like what?” He asks, knowing he sounds whiny and petulant. He’ll blame it on the Sangria later.

Nursey gestures to himself and Chowder with his ruler, which he has not let go of since learning how to properly use it. “You just taught Chowder and I how to do laundry and measure things in like two hours. You’re like, a genius.”

Dex frowns. “I’m not sure I’m a — ”

“Plus,” Chowder adds on. “You’re loyal, and hardworking, and you’d do anything for the people you care about. And sometimes you can be an asshole but when someone tells you you’re in the wrong or that you’ve said something offensive, you take time to listen to them and learn from your mistakes. And you didn’t always do that. So it’s been really nice to see how you’ve grown as a person since we were freshmen.”

It’s a statement that would mean a lot from anyone, but it especially means something from Chowder, who’s seen Dex at his best and at his worst for the past eight years. He swallows, and says, sincere, “Thanks.”

“Plus, you’re like, hot,” Nursey continues, taking a sip of his sangria. “Like, I’d fuck you if you asked.”

Dex feels his face go hot. “What?”

Nursey stills. “What?”

Chowder, who’d brought a giant bag of Lays into their makeshift fort, crunches on them loudly. “He said he’d fuck you if you asked.”

Nursey rolls his eyes. “Look, I’m just saying, you’ve got that whole, flannel-rolled-up-to-your-forearms, handyman, lumberjack sort-of-vibe. You can fix things with your hands and shit.”

“True,” Chowder agrees. “These qualities are, objectively, hot.”

“Well if I’m so hot, then how come I can’t find anyone to love?” Dex demands.

“Because you’re not looking in the right place,” Chowder informs him. “I mean, you’re barely even looking. How many guys have you been with since Liam?”

Dex looks down. “Like, two.”

“Exactly,” Chowder says. “And they were weird, remember? Didn’t you say one of them wore an ascot?”

Dex avoids Chowder’s gaze. “He wouldn’t take it off during sex, either.”

Nursey looks bewildered. “Wait, what?”

“See, you deserve better than that,” Chowder insists. “But you also need to _believe_ you deserve better than that. You deserve a real, genuine, and meaningful relationship with somebody else who cares about you.”

“Yeah,” Nursey agrees. “Somebody who _knows_ you. Like us.”

“Well, not exactly us,” Chowder amends. “Because I have Cait and you have Hot PTA Mom.”

“Shut up.”

“But Nursey’s got the right idea,” Chowder continues as if he hadn’t heard him. “So, yeah, in summary: you should put yourself back out there. Because you deserve someone who knows you and understands you and cares about you. Someone who’s s’wawesome.”

Chowder's right, of course. Dex knows this. But he also knows that it's easier said than done, because the only people who fit that description are Dex's roommates, and an overwhelming majority of them are not single, anyway. Still, he nods a little. “Yeah, okay. I think you’re right.” Then he clears his throat and takes a long sip of sangria. To Nursey, he says, “This stuff is amazing, by the way.”

“Thanks!” Nursey says. “I learned how to make it in an honors culinary class at Harvard.”

“Jar,” Dex and Chowder say immediately.

Nursey grumbles but dutifully crawls out of their fort to shove a dollar into the Douchebag Jar.

\--

The skunk prank is a good prank, alright? Holster doesn’t care what Ransom says, or anyone else, for that matter. And putting up with a skunk -- which isn't exactly Holster's favorite animal -- will all be worth it for the look on Abby's face.

Sure, Abby and her fiancee -- Maddie? Macy? Madge? Something like that -- seem like a good couple. And Abby is nice enough. But sometimes Holster feels like she has it out for him. For example, she never returns the pens Holster lends her, and always whispers to Monica Williamson whenever he shows up late for staff meetings, and one time when Holster had left his Olive Garden Fettucini Alfredo in the fridge in the break room, he couldn’t find it the next day. Obviously he has no proof that Abby threw his to-go box away, but still. He has a hunch.

And then there’s the hotel bed thing, which, the longer Holster thinks about it, the weirder it feels. Obviously sharing a bed with Ransom wasn’t a big deal, as they cuddle together on the regular. But the fact that Abby hadn’t thought to get them two beds, had left them with no choice but to share...well, that was odd.

So maybe, just maybe, Abby has this prank coming.

And it’s not like she’ll ever find out it’s Holster who did it, anyway.

So just before the wedding -- which takes place in a fancy hotel -- Holster sneaks out the side door to the bush where he’d hidden the skunk’s crate, grabs it, and sneakily carries it inside the building and into the maintenance room, where he raises the crate into the air ducts that run above the ceremony room, and climbs in after it.

The plan is to let it loose and scram, which seemed easy enough. The first part  _is_ easy -- as soon as he’s firmly in the duct, he opens the crate and the skunk flees. Any smell he lets loose is bound to permeate the air of Abby’s wedding through the ducts, and Holster snickers to himself when he imagines the disgust and confusion on the guests’ faces.

However, Holster’s second part of the plan doesn’t go as well as he thought it would, because as soon as he’s up in the ducts he quickly realizes he’s not able to get down.

And Holster knows, logically, that he probably shouldn't call Ransom. He's no doubt sitting amongst the crowd of guests Abby invited to the wedding, and the ceremony has likely started already. And anyway, Ransom's already told him that he wants no part in Holster's prank, because he's lame and doesn't recognize an awesome prank when he sees it.

Still, though, when Holster calls him, Ransom answers after a few rings with a hissed, “What?”

“Hey, bro,” Holster says, trying to sound calm. “So...I think I’m stuck.”

“What? Stuck _where?_ ”

“Uh…” Holster says. “The air ducts?”

“Holster!”

“I'm okay, I promise! I just need a good shove and then I should be out.”

Ransom is quiet for a few minutes, before he finally asks, “Where, exactly, are you?” After Holster quickly explains his location, Ransom sighs. “I’m on my way.”

“I love you, Rans,” Holster says with a relieved exhale. “Seriously. I owe you so much Taco Bell after this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ransom says, dismissive, but Holster can hear the grin behind his voice before he hangs up.

“So, what exactly was the plan here?” Ransom asks when he finally arrives in the maintenance room Holster had snuck into not that long ago. Holster recites his plan -- which, only a few minutes ago, had seemed genius, though he's having second thoughts now. Holster can't see Ransom's face, because his back, or more accurately his ass, which is stuck in the duct, is facing Ransom, but he can hear the doubt in his voice when he asks, “When were you planning on getting the skunk?”

“What?”

“Well you can’t just leave the skunk in the duct, right? You have to get it back out.”

Holster is quiet.

Ransom sighs. “You hadn’t thought about that, did you?”

“...It wasn’t exactly my number one priority.”

Holster hears Ransom snort. “Okay. Do you think you can make it to the other end of the duct?” Holster nods, and when he realizes Ransom can't see him, says yeah. “Alright, then here's the new plan. This air duct only really runs across the top of the ceremony room. So you crawl across to the other side, try to find the skunk, and lure it to the other end of the duct. I'll meet you over there with the crate, pull you out, and trap the skunk and take it back to...wherever the hell you got this thing from.”

It's not a bad plan, really. But still, Holster says, somewhat petulantly, “I thought you didn’t want to get involved.”

“I don’t,” Ransom agrees. “But someone's gotta get your ass out of here.” Holster snorts out a laugh, and Ransom continues, “And anyway, I'm pretty sure Abby threw my leftover Outback out the other week? So maybe she sort of deserves a skunk at her wedding.”

Holster grins broadly, even though he knows Ransom can’t see him. “Dude! I _swear_ she did the same thing to me.”

Ransom laughs. “Meet you on the other side?”

“You got it.”

And just like that, Holster begins his climb through the ducts, and Ransom slips out of the maintenance room, and Holster's genius plan starts looking a little more genius again. This is why Ransom should've been with him from the get-go -- he's the brains, and Holster's the creativity. They're the perfect duo. So Holster's actually feeling pretty good about the whole thing -- that is, until he runs into the skunk in the ducts and screams.

"Holster!" Ransom hisses. He's apparently made it to the other side of the duct, and judging by the proximity of his voice Holster's pretty close to the other side, too. "Keep your voice down, they'll hear you! Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Holster says, though his voice definitely reveals that he is not, in fact, okay. "I, uh...I ran into the skunk."

"Good! Now usher it this way."

Holster takes one look at the skunk, which is frozen directly in front of his face, staring into him with its beady, beady eyes and sharp teeth, and says, "Uh. I don't know if I can do that."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because this skunk is  _terrifying!_ "

"Oh my -- " Then Holster hears Ransom's loud huff and the creak of metal, and suddenly Ransom is climbing into the duct. Startled by the noise, the skunk lets out a hiss. Holster didn't even know skunks hissed. He screams again. 

"You gotta stop doing that, bro," Ransom says, and then freezes when he sees the skunk. "Shit, dude. He is creepy."

"I told you!"

"Look, it's fine," Ransom says, although his facial expression does not, in fact, convey that it's fine. They're two guys in their late twenties who are spending their coworker's wedding inside a cramped air duct with a skunk.

But the last thing Holster wants is for Ransom to go into coral reef mode in the middle of this air duct, so Holster says, tentatively, "Maybe we can...grab it and carry it to the other end of the duct?"

The skunk hisses again, as if it can actually understand what he's saying and doesn't like the idea. Still, Ransom takes a deep breath, and says, "Okay. We grab the skunk on the count of three." Holster nods, and Ransom takes a deep breath again. "One, two, three!"

After that, several things happen at once. Holster and Ransom both jump towards the skunk, the skunk darts out of the way, and the metal underneath their bodies makes a horrible sound, as Holster and Ransom go breaking through the duct and onto the carpeted floor of the hotel ballroom Abby rented out for her wedding.

Holster screams, Ransom screams, and the crowd of wedding guests around them screams even louder. But what breaks through the screams is the sharp cry of Abby, a cry Holster's heard so many times, at so many staff meetings and holiday parties, that he'd recognize anywhere. "Justin? Adam?"

Holster sits up and ignores the aching of his tailbone as a result of crashing through an air-duct and into his coworker's wedding. He tries to make his stance look casual. "Oh hey, Abby. What's up?"

Abby just stares. Then, "What the hell are you  _doing?_ "

"Oh. Uh, you know," Holster laughs nervously and grins. "We just thought we'd...drop in?"

To Holster's surprise, Abby's fiancee -- or, almost wife, now --  _laughs._ Holster's pretty sure her name is Maisie, now that he's really thinking about it. Abby turns to give her a betrayed look. "What?" Maisie says, defensive. "It was funny."

"Funny?" Abby repeats, incredulous. "They just crashed our wedding.  _Literally._ " Ransom snorts, and Abby turns back to the two of them with a glare. "Are you the reason why it smells like shit in here, too?"

Holster chooses to ignore this question, and Ransom says, placating, "Look, Abby, we're sorry. It was just supposed to be a stupid prank."

"A prank?" Abby repeats. " _Why?_ "

"As payback!" Holster says. Ransom gives him a look and elbows him. Holster ignores that, too.

"Payback for  _what?_ "

"You never return my pens!" Holster bursts out. Abby just stares, bewildered. Her eye twitches. "And you throw out everyone's leftovers when we're not done with them and...and you gave me and Ransom one bed just to be petty!"

"One bed?" Abby raises her eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"He's talking about the hotel room," Ransom explains. "Where you conveniently forgot to give one of us a bed."

Abby crosses her arms in front of her chest and scoffs. "Well, sorry, but I assumed you guys wouldn't mind. Seeing as you're  _dating._ "

Holster sees Ransom freeze out of the corner of his eye. Holster, previously confident and confrontational, suddenly falters. "What?"

"Boyfriends usually don't have a problem sharing a bed," Abby says, speaking to them as if they're six-year-olds. In all fairness, Holster and Ransom _do_ act like six-year-olds most of the time. "But if you _did_ have a problem, you could've always talked to me about it, instead of -- "

"Holster and I, uh -- " Ransom interrupts, stammering and looking stunned. "We're not -- I mean, we're not exactly -- "

"We're not dating," Holster fills in finally.

The room feels a lot more quiet than it was before. Abby's eyebrows lift. Even Maisie looks surprised. "You're not?" Abby asks. Ransom and Holster shake their head in unison. "But -- you live together."

"With three other people," Ransom reminds her.

"But...you're always...together," Abby says. Holster blinks at that. He's not really sure what to say to that. "And you're both...you know." She turns to Maisie, helpless, but Maisie just shrugs at her. "I mean --  _everyone_ thinks that -- "

But before Abby can continue blowing Holster's mind and also filling him with an uncomfortable feeling he doesn't quite understand, there's another crash from above them, and Holster's skunk lands right in his lap, and all of the guest members scream  _again._ In the chaos, Holster shoves the skunk off his lab, grabs Ransom's arm, and drags him out the side door before they can be subjected to more of Abby's rude and alarming questions.

"For the record?" Ransom says as they scramble down the hallway, trying to get as much distance between themselves and the wedding, "You  _definitely_ went too big this time."

"Oh, shut up," Holster grumbles.

\--

Bitty’s realization that he had feelings for Jack is incredibly inconvenient. However, it’s incredibly  _less_ inconvenient when he ignores the feelings, and furthermore, ignores Jack’s existence altogether. Which is stupid, and maybe a little petty, but it's the only thing Bitty can think to do until these feelings for Jack — feelings that are never going to amount to anything and only make Bitty's life awkward — go away.

Surprisingly, it’s easier said than done. They live on the same hall, but it’s easy to keep their interactions nothing more than neighborly there, and at work Bitty tries to be professional. It does, admittedly, get a little harder when Jack keeps asking Bitty out to lunch with the rest of the team, but every time, Bitty says no. It’s way too easy for Bitty to pretend that Jack’s invitations are more than just friendly camaraderie, and Bitty can’t afford to go down that route.

Though Bitty _does_ worry that the rest of the Falconers are starting to think he hates them. Nothing could be farther from the truth — the Falconers are just as nice as Jack described. Especially Tater, who Bitty has snuck a pie when the coaches weren’t looking at least once. (Ransom, who has a weird celeb crush on Tater, was overcome with jealousy when Bitty recounted Tater’s compliments to his roommates later.)

But though Bitty’s overall plan is to ignore Jack, he decides going to the Falconers game in San Jose won’t hurt anything. After all, he gets tickets to the game for  _free._  (Chowder had been endlessly jealous, but Bitty's already got Chowder's Christmas present planned. Birthday, too, come to think of it.)He’d be an idiot to pass up that opportunity, and it’s not like he’s going to be spending much time with Jack if he’s on the ice the majority of the time. He even takes precautions — he keeps the small-talk with Jack that morning to a minimum, and when they board the bus, Bitty ushers Tater into the empty seat next to him before Jack can even offer his empty seat to Bitty. The last thing he needs is to be sharing a seat with Jack Zimmermann for five hours.

However, all of his precautions and plans become useless when Bitty arrives at his hotel room, looks over, and sees Jack at the door next to him.

“Hey, Bits,” Jack says cheerily, giving him a wave as he slides his key card in the door. Bitty weakly waves back. “Guess we’re neighbors, eh?”

Bitty gives Jack a smile, though he doesn’t feel much like smiling. “Imagine that.”

“You think it’s one of those conjoined rooms?” Jack asks, letting himself in his own room. Bitty briefly closes his eyes.  _Please, please don’t let it be a conjoined room._ “Oh, hey!” Jack calls, and Bitty drags his suitcase into his own room. Sure enough, Jack has found the door that connects their two room together and is beaming at Bitty from his side.

“S'wawesome,” Bitty says, though his tone probably conveys the exact opposite.

This is going to be a long trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Bitty's NHL Hockey game experience and True American!


	5. True American II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty's idea to avoid Jack at the Falconers away game doesn't exactly go to plan. Meanwhile, the rest of the gang prepares for their biggest game of True American yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I definitely intended to have this chapter out before now, but life got in the way. I also definitely intended for this chapter to be shorter, but here it is at over 10k uhhh oops.
> 
> Anyway, y'all know the drill: if you want something to listen to while you read this chapter, you can find my Spotify playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/gracemcgready/playlist/3p1LgJ0P3SCtBUut5Px4pJ?si=MdSPH7JpQGmYOprlSMG-Fg). Seriously, it makes me so happy to see new followers on my playlist and it truly has all the bops so definitely give it a listen!
> 
> Now, without further ado, I present this long overdue chapter. (Please remember that I know nothing about hockey)

God, Bitty has missed hockey.

It’s not that he doesn’t still watch games on TV, and he’s been tuning in to the Falconers’ games long before he started working for them. They’re a good team, and Bitty likes watching good hockey. But there’s a big difference between watching a hockey game on your TV in the comfort of your living room and watching it from the stands. It feels different — it feels  _ more _ , like you’re an active participant in the game rather than just a passive watcher. He’d almost forgotten the difference, had forgotten the feeling of the crisp air and the excited screams of the fans around him, something he hasn’t felt since his senior year of college. 

It feels good — great, even — but it feels even better when the Falconers win.

It was a close game, too — the Sharks are an incredible team, which made the whole game even more exhilarating. But nearly at the last second, the Falconers won, Jack scoring the last goal.

Bitty was so excited that as soon as the buzzer went off, he’d jumped up and immediately pulled Sylvia, the Falconers’ trainer he’d sat next to in the stands, into a huge hug. He barely knows Sylvia aside from a few conversations at work, but she’d hugged him back with just as much intensity, so Bitty guesses it’s alright. 

The Falconers bask in the win for a bit, hooting and hollering and dog-piling on one another in a celly, before they skate off to the locker rooms to change and talk to the press. Bitty wants to congratulate them, but squeezing into the crowd of fans and reporters outside the locker room doesn’t exactly sound exciting. So instead, Bitty grabs a late dinner with Sylvia and her husband Ted at a Sonic near the hotel, and then heads back to his hotel room. 

What he intends to do is explore the hotel’s cable and maybe find a movie on HBO to watch until he falls asleep — really, he does. Except for when he gets back to his room, there’s a light on underneath Jack’s hotel room door and Bitty can tell from the quiet sounds on the other side that he’s still up.

Bitty doesn’t need to congratulate Jack right now. He’ll see him tomorrow on the bus, and anyway, it’s almost eleven. Jack is probably tired and getting ready for bed.

Despite all this, though, Bitty spends an embarrassing amount of time standing outside Jack’s door debating on whether or not he should knock.

In the end, it turns out Bitty needn’t have worried about knocking at all, because before he can reach a decision, there’s a knock on Bitty’s door. Heartbeat quickening, Bitty tugs nervously on a loose thread in his pajama pants and pulls open the door. 

Only, on the other side, it isn’t Jack at all. It’s Tater.

“Bits!” Tater says in a voice far too loud for eleven o’clock in a hotel room. Behind him, Snowy, who’s leaning against the hotel room bed, shushes him. Poots, who sits on the floor next to him, nods hello at Bitty, and Jack, who sits on the other side of Poots, waves. 

“What are all y’all doing in here?” Bitty asks.

“Tradition for after roadies,” Tater explains.

“Yeah, we usually hang after the press finally leaves us alone,” Poots pipes up, snacking on a bag of Cheetohs, which Bitty, as team nutritionist, graciously pretends not to see.

“You’ll join us?” Tater asks.

“We’re watching  _ White Chicks, _ ” Snowy adds, gesturing to the TV.

And Bitty probably shouldn’t, because it’s late and it’s  _ Jack,  _ but he’s never been able to say no to  _ White Chicks.  _ “Sure,” he says, and then cuts his eyes quickly towards Jack. “As long as y’all don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Jack says, like the mere suggestion is ridiculous. Bitty feels a little warm. “C’mon in.”

So Bitty does, situating himself in the remaining spot on the floor which is, naturally, between Tater and Jack. So instead of thinking about how his knee is pressed against Jack’s — which really isn’t as big of a deal as his poor gay heart is making it out to be — Bitty focuses on the movie, and also entertains the idea of how jealous Ransom would be if he took a selfie with Tater right now. 

He won’t do it, of course. But it’s a good distraction.

“Great game, by the way,” Bitty comments as he watches Kevin and Marcus transform themselves into the Wilson twins.

“Thanks, Bits,” Tater says cheerily, immediately throwing his arm around Bitty in a companionate hug. Tater is a very affectionate guy, Bitty’s learned — another factoid that would fill Ransom with unbridled jealousy. “Celebratory pie for win, yes?”

Poots and Snowy both perk up at the mention of pie, and Bitty laughs. “Y’all, George would  _ kill me.  _ Believe it or not, I’m actually trying to  _ keep  _ this job.” 

“George loves you way too much to kill you,” Jack says matter-of-factly, and when Bitty looks over, he’s smiling fondly. Bitty quickly looks back at the TV. “You’re like, the whole team’s favorite.”

“True,” Poots agrees.

Another time, maybe, a braver Bitty would say something along the lines of,  _ And am I  _ your  _ favorite, Mr. Zimmermann?  _ But they have company, and besides, Bitty is trying to avoid Jack, not flirt with him. So instead, Bitty says, “And great goal at the end of the game, Jack.”

“Oh,” Jack says, and to Bitty’s horror, he  _ flushes,  _ all bashful and embarrassed, like he isn’t the  _ captain  _ of an NHL team. Bitty is going to die. “Thanks.”

“So, Bittle,” says Snowy with a smirk, thankfully distracting him from Jack Zimmerman’s  _ everything.  _ “Were you a hockey fan before, or did we convert you tonight?”

“Oh, I’ve always loved hockey,” Bitty assures him with a wave of his hand. “I played when I was at Samwell.”

“Really?” Poots asks, and he sounds surprised, but not really in a bad way.

“Yeah,” Bitty says, and then hesitates before admitting, “I was actually captain my senior year.” Even Jack raises his eyebrows at that, and maybe it’s wrong to relish in the feeling of impressing your NHL coworkers, but still, Bitty tacks on, “Unanimous vote.”

Tater whistles. “Wow, Bits! You were good player?”

Bitty makes a face. “Maybe not at first. I had a huge mental block when it came to checking, which I never fully got over, but...I got better at handling it. And I had a great support system in my team, which really helped.”

“Nice,” Poots grins, and then holds up his hand. Bitty grins back and high-fives him, and then settles back against the bed, turning to the TV again. 

He thinks back to the conversation he’d had with Jack on his first day, about his worries over having NHL teammates as coworkers, and briefly sends a message of thanks to whatever deity is listening that he ended up with the Falconers. He glances over at Jack, almost out of habit, only to find Jack looking back at him, and they must be thinking the same thing, because Jack shoots him a look and raises his eyebrows as if to say,  _ See? Told you so. _

Bitty just smiles at him.

When the credits roll, Snowy and Poots beg off pretty quickly, though Tater sticks around a little longer. He’s apparently never seen the movie before, and spent the majority of it laughing so loud that Bitty could barely hear the lines. And even after the movie is over, he hangs around to talk about his favorite parts.

“That song,” Tater says. “What is that song?”

“A Thousand Miles?” Bitty says. “Vanessa Carlton?”

“Great song,” Tater insists enthusiastically.

Finally, Tater heads off to his own room, which leaves just Jack and Bitty. Bitty should really be going off to his own room, too, actually, because it’s late and he’s tired and surely Jack is tired, but still, he stays in his spot on the floor, and after Jack closes the door behind Tater, he sits next to him. “So,” he says after stretching his legs out on the carpet. “How did today compare to your years in college hockey?”

“Pretty good,” Bitty answers. “There’s just something about hockey, I think? About watching a game live. It’s better than just watching from your TV. You feel like you’re  _ part  _ of the game, you know?”

Jack nudges Bitty’s shoulder. “Well, you  _ are  _ part of the game.” Bitty looks at him expectantly. “Or part of the team, at least. Where would we be without you to monitor our eating habits while simultaneously sneaking us pie any chance you get?”

“I’ll have you know I’ve  _ stopped  _ sneaking pie, thank you very much,” Bitty says, shooting Jack a glare.

“Barely,” Jack chuckles, shaking his head. “But, about the hockey thing? I get what you mean.” He runs a hand through his hair, like some sort of hockey supermodel, and Bitty pointedly looks away. “I’ve watched other games and I’ve been to other games that weren’t my own, and there’s something different. The atmosphere is different, somehow. It...it just  _ feels  _ more.”

Bitty, enraptured in the way Jack looks when he’s passionate about something, takes an embarrassingly long time to answer, and when he does, he says, lamely, “Yeah.”

But Jack just smiles, with both his eyes and his mouth, which of course draws Bitty’s eyes directly to Jack’s mouth, no matter how much he tells himself to look away. Finally, his eyes get the message his brain is frantically trying to send, and he tears his eyes away from Jack’s mouth and back up to his eyes, only to find that Jack’s eyes are trained downwards, too.

Bitty’s heart leaps to his throat.

For what most only be a second, but for what feels like hours, Bitty is very, very still. Jack lifts his eyes from Bitty’s mouth and back to his eyes, and holds himself still, as well. And just as Bitty is wondering if he should say fuck it and lean, or if he should gather his remaining dignity and head back to his hotel room, there’s a knock on the door. 

Jack springs to his feet immediately, and Bitty blinks in surprise, leaning away from their shared space after the fact, even though Jack is no longer there to occupy it.

“Sorry, forgot my charger,” Bitty hears when Jack opens the door, and he turns around to see Jack let Poots into the room. He shoots Bitty a grin as he leans down next to Jack’s bed and tugs his phone charger from the outlet. “Thanks, Jack. See you guys tomorrow,” he says as he heads back out the door, just as quickly as he came.

Bitty’s not sure if he wants to thank Snowy or throttle him.

Jack closes the door behind him and turns around to face Bitty again, and though he looks like he wants to say something, he never actually opens his mouth. After several moments of awkward silence, Bitty finally says, “It’s kind of late. I should probably be getting to bed, too.”

“Right,” Jack agrees. His expression is unreadable.

Bitty slowly, and maybe reluctantly, rises to his feet and opens the door between their rooms. “Night, Jack.”

Jack gives him a small smile. “Night, Bits.”

Bitty leaves, closing the door between them, and then leaps onto his bed to scream into his pillow.

\--

Dex is, proudly, a morning person, and he’ll advertise this information to anyone who asks. So when he doesn’t get out of bed until almost two on Sunday, he’s a little surprised.

But when he groggily heads out into the living room and sees the half-taken-down fort he’d built with Nursey and Chowder last night, and remembers how late they’d been up, drinking and binging Marvel movies and maybe crying a little bit, he’s not surprised anymore.

A few minutes later, after he’s beat around the coffee pot a couple of times before it reluctantly churned out a full mug of coffee, the door to the apartment bursts open and Shitty and Lardo march in, which is just another surprisingly unsurprising part of his morning.

“Afternoon, Dexy-do,” Shitty says cheerily. Dex grunts before sipping his coffee. “Where’s the rest of the gang?”

“Sleeping.”

“Holtzy and Rans aren’t back yet?” Lardo asks, taking a sip of coffee from her thermos. She’s much more subdued, and therefore far more fitting to Dex’s mood.

“Should be back in half an hour or so,” Dex says, pulling himself into the stool at the kitchen island which is really just a tall table he found at a Goodwill a couple of years ago. Shitty slides into the empty seat next to him while Lardo begins to search through their cabinets, probably for Holster’s box of Lucky Charms.

Nursey stumbles blearily into the room next, and, unlike Dex, pauses at Shitty and Lardo’s presence. Still, after a moment, he slides into the stool next to Dex and sleepily mumbles, “Hey, you two, who don’t live here and yet are always here anyway.”

“Afternoon, Sleeping Beauty,” Shitty responds.

Nursey frowns. “Afternoon? What time is it?”

“Almost two,” Dex says with an eye-roll.

“Shut up, Dex, it’s not like you’re not still in pajamas too,” Chowder says as he enters the room, sleepily rubbing his eyes and still wearing his matching sharks pajama set. Dex, childishly, sticks his tongue out at him.

Lardo looks at the state of the three of them, the half-unmade Frog Fort, and the empty wine glasses on the kitchen counter. Then she shoves a handful of Lucky Charms into her mouth and raises her eyebrows. “Late night?”

Dex shifts in his seat, not exactly willing to admit he spent the night drinking Sangria, teaching Nursey and Chowder how to accomplish basic tasks, and getting mopey about his lack of a love life.

“Yeah,” Shitty says, smirking a bit. “How was this infamous Frog Weekend?”

Dex glances at Nursey and Chowder, who just stare back, unreadable. “Uh — ”

But Dex is saved from answering by the sound of their door bursting open again. “We’re back, bitches!” Holster shouts.

“Jar,” Shitty says in response.

Not missing a beat, Holster dutifully shoves a one-dollar bill into the Douchebag Jar before he and Ransom wander into the kitchen, still in relative states of nice dress, though Ransom has lost his tie and Holster has lost his jacket. Almost immediately, Ransom slumps into the empty stool next to Nursey, banging his head on the island. Holster, on the other hand, veers off in the opposite direction towards their room, shouting, “Nope, I need sweatpants on  _ immediately. _ ”

“Bring me some!” Ransom calls, voice muffled by the table.

Dex frowns at Ransom’s slumped form. “You guys are back kinda early.”

Holster comes back into the kitchen, sweatpants half-on-half-off. He throws Ransom his pair, who catches it without even looking. Finally, he lifts his head and begins pulling off his dress-pants, looking over at Dex with a complicated expression. “Yep,” he finally answers.

Dex waits for an elaboration, but none comes.

Eyebrows and mustache furrowed in confusion, Shitty says, tentative, “So...how was the wedding?”

Holster looks at Ransom, who just looks back. “Weird,” Holster finally says. When he’s just met with more stares, he sighs and says, “We got kicked out.”

“ _ What? _ ” Chowder says, alarmed. Both Ransom and Holster wince.

Lardo, who looks far too casual, munches on another handful of Lucky Charms and asks, “How did the skunk prank go?”

“ _ What?! _ ” Chowder repeats.

Holster shifts on his feet. “Anyway, when is Bitty back?”

“Not til five,” Ransom says, who seems suspiciously grateful for the distraction. Nursey looks over at Dex with raised eyebrows, but Dex just sighs, shakes his head, and decides to let the matter drop. Ransom holds up his phone and shakes it. “We’ve been texting all weekend, because I needed constant deets about both Tater and Bitty’s relationship with Jack.”

Chowder smiles knowingly. “And how  _ is  _ he dealing with Jack?”

“Well, we’re at step four of my plan to get them together,” Ransom replies cheerily. “According to Excel, there’s a eighty percent change they’ll be dating within the next three months.”

Dex frowns. “Should we really be meddling with Bitty’s love life like this?”

“Hey, I am  _ not  _ meddling,” Ransom says, defensive. “I am merely an interested and obsessive bystander who wants to see love flourish.”

Dex rolls his eyes and takes another sip of coffee.

“Anyway, onto a relevant topic that actually concerns us,” Lardo says breezily, ignoring the glare Ransom sends her. “Are we still good for True American tonight?”

Nursey groans. “I forgot about that.”

“Well you better be ready,” Chowder says. “Maya is gonna be here in less than an hour.”

Nursey, who was so tired and hungover that he was starting to lean on top of Dex, immediately goes rigid. “ _ What? _ ”

“I texted her last night,” Chowder says with a shrug, as if he’s merely stating the weather and not ruining Nursey’s life. Dex just snorts.

“Why would you do that?” Nursey demands.

“You told me to!”

“I was  _ drunk!  _ I was not in control of my actions!”

“Uh,” Holster says, glancing around the table in confusion. “Why exactly is Maya coming over?”

Lardo leans over and pats his hand. “You missed a lot. I’ll catch you up later.”

“Oh, and Caitlin, April, and March are coming, too,” Chowder adds, and Holster’s eyes go wide. “What? I invited them this morning. I thought it’d be the neighborly thing to do.”

“I’m wearing  _ sweatpants,  _ Christopher,” Holster hisses.

“You’re not as bad as Nursey, at least,” Dex offers. “Pretty sure his shirt is inside out.”

Nursey glances down, discovering that sure enough, his Bon Iver tour t-shirt he got five summers ago is inside out. He looks back up at Dex, narrows his eyes, and flips him off before running off to his room to change, Holster quick on his heels.

Dex just takes another sip of his coffee, content to sit in the kitchen in his sweats for a while. After all, it’s not like he has a significant other to impress.

\--

**Ransom**

What time do you think you guys will be back?

 

**Bitty**

We’re on the bus now

Like 5, maybe?

Y’all better not start True American without me

 

**Ransom**

Duh

How was the game?

 

**Bitty**

Really good!!

Falcs won

Jack got the winning score

 

**Ransom**

Hmm

And how IS Jack?

 

**Bitty**

Rans.

 

**Ransom**

I’m just asking!

 

**Bitty**

...you remember when they read mean tweets at the Oscars and there was one that was like “oh look at me I’m Ryan Gosling, I have perfect bone structure and kind eyes. Go fuck yourself Ryan Gosling”

 

**Ransom**

Lmfaoooo yeah

 

**Bitty**

Well that’s been the mood for the weekend

 

Despite last night — or maybe, perhaps, because of it — Bitty still doesn’t sit next to Jack on the bus. He sits next to Tater again, instead, which is just as well, because Bitty thinks he might’ve broken his heart if he’d sat somewhere else.

“We’re bus buddies now,” Tater had insisted somberly not long into the drive.

Bitty is definitely holding this over Ransom’s head when he gets home.

And with Tater as a bus buddy, the five-hour trip is not unbearable. Still, Bitty’s relieved when they pull into the parking lot of the Falcons stadium, and he pulls his suitcases out of the bottom of the bus at lightning fast speed. This weekend has been fun, but also kind of weird, and Bitty’s ready to be home.

Of course, Jack catches up to Bitty as he’s walking to his car. Because this is his life.

“You know, I think you packed more than anybody else on this team,” Jack says, nodding to Bitty’s three bags and holding up his one.

Bitty, who usually packs clothes like he’s expecting to shit his pants every single day of a trip, says, primly, “It’s always good to be prepared.”

Jack laughs a little. “Well, do you need a hand?”

“Oh, I — ” But Jack is already gently taking Bitty’s duffel out of his left hand before he can protest. “Uh, thank you.”

“No problem,” Jack says. When they reach Bitty’s car, he tosses the duffel in the backseat after Bitty unlocks the door. Bitty shoves his suitcases in after it. “See you later?”

“Yeah,” Bitty says, and Jack grins and makes his way to his own car, only a few spaces down from Bitty’s.

Shaking his head, Bitty climbs into the driver’s seat. Honestly, he wants nothing more than to get home, drink some beer, and then analyze every single one of Jack’s actions this weekend with Ransom. He’ll have an annoying, knowing look the whole time of course, but screw it. Bitty needs  _ answers. _

Because Bitty isn’t exactly the most experienced guy on the block, but he’s not an  _ idiot.  _ And it feels a lot like Jack has been flirting with him all weekend, so Bitty is very ready to put all of this behind him, get drunk, and vent. And in only a fifteen minute drive, he’ll be free.

Or not, actually, because as soon as Bitty’s parked, a familiar car swings into the empty space next to him.

It’s not that weird of a coincidence, really, especially because he and Jack left from the same place at the exact same time. Still, Bitty kind of hates his life when he gets out of the car and hears Jack say, “Hey, Bits. Long time no see.”

And God, Jack is such a  _ dork  _ and it is way cuter than it should be.

Still, Bitty smiles, and hopes he doesn’t blush. “Hi, Jack.”

He pulls his suitcases out of the backseat just as Jack pulls out his bag. Wordlessly, Jack reaches over and grabs Bitty’s duffel again.

Bitty’s definitely blushing now.

“You know, maybe we should carpool every once in a while,” Jack suggests as the two of them make their way out of the parking deck.

Bitty looks over at him. “What?”

Jack shrugs. “I mean, we live in the same place and we work in the same place. Feels weird that both of us are using up gas when one of us could be saving it, right?”

Bitty would be lying if he said this idea had never crossed his mind. But he’d never said anything about it, firstly because it ruined any plans he had at avoiding spending time with Jack, and secondly because he never imagined it’d be something Jack would want to do. Jack is the  _ captain —  _ he’s way too busy to be offering to carpool like they’re back in middle school.

And yet, here he is, making the suggestion, and what is Bitty supposed to say?  _ No, I’d rather not save money and gas because I’m trying not to fall in love with you? _

“Sure,” Bitty says. “Seems like a good idea.”

Jack grins.

The two of them head into the lobby of their building. “It feels weird to be getting home the day after a hockey game this late,” Bitty comments as they approach the elevator. “Back in college we always left early in the morning.” He presses the up button for the elevator and he and Jack step inside. “Why do the Falconers leave so late?”

Just before the elevator doors slide closed, Johnson steps inside the elevator with them. “Probably for plot and timing reasons,” he explains, even though Bitty’s pretty sure he didn’t even hear the question he’d asked.

Bitty and Jack exchange awkward glances, and then stand in silence until Johnson gets off at the fourth floor with a wave.

“What a weird guy,” Bitty mutters as the doors close shut behind him. Jack just nods.

Finally, they reach the top floor, where Bitty expects Jack to just hand him his suitcase and part ways. Instead, Jack starts walking towards Bitty’s apartment, leaving him with no choice but to follow.

“Well, here you go,” Jack says, a little awkward, when they reach Bitty’s apartment, and he hands Bitty his duffel.

“Thanks,” Bitty says, throwing it onto his shoulder. “You know, I really think I could’ve managed that from this walk from the elevator to my apartment.”

“No, I know,” Jack says. “I just — ” he hesitates. “About last night — ”

But Bitty never finds out what, exactly, Jack wanted to say about last night, because the door to his apartment bursts open.

“Bitty! You’re back!” Shitty says with enthusiasm. At one point in his life, Bitty might’ve been confused that the first person he saw when he got back to his apartment was someone that didn’t even live with him. At this point, though, he’s kind of just expected it.

“Bitty’s back?” Bitty hears from behind Shitty, and then Ransom pops up behind him, face lighting up. “Jack, hey! What’s going on?”

“Hey, Rans,” Jack says, grinning.

_ Rans?  _ Bitty mouths at Ransom, who just smirks and reaches out to give Jack...well, something that looks like a cross between a handshake and a fist-bump.

Bitty stares. “So y’all have a secret handshake now?”

“Don’t be jealous, Bitty,” Ransom says. Bitty’s gonna kill him. Then he adds on, far too casual, “You know, you guys are back just in time for True American.”

Bitty is  _ seriously  _ going to kill him.

“What’s True American?” Jack asks.

“Just about the only good invention that’s come out of America, my friend,” Ransom says. Jack laughs, and Bitty rolls his eyes. “It’s basically a competitive drinking game.”

“But with stakes,” Shitty adds.

And Bitty really, really wishes they wouldn’t do this right now, for several reasons, but mainly because he doesn’t trust himself drunk around Jack Zimmermann. Besides, Bitty knows Jack doesn’t drink, so he says, “Jack, please don’t feel obligated to — ”

But Jack cuts him off with a shrug. “Sure, I’ll play.”

Bitty blinks, surprised. “You will?”

Ransom cheers. “Hell yeah, he will!”

“But I thought you don’t drink,” Bitty objects.

Jack shrugs again. “I don’t, much.”

“Fear not, Mr. Zimmermann,” Shitty says, clapping Jack on the shoulder. “You don’t have to drink to play True American.”

Bitty glares at him. “Uh, yeah, you kinda do.”

“Uh, no, he doesn’t,” Ransom butts in. “Remember the Prohibition bylaw, established 2014?”

“Damn it,” Bitty curses under his breath.

Shitty, impervious to Bitty’s stress, just beams at Jack. “Welcome, friend, to our humble abode,” he says, and gently guides Jack into the loft.

“You don’t live here!” Bitty hears Nursey shout at Shitty from somewhere inside the loft.

Finally alone, Bitty turns to Ransom, who still stands in the doorway of their apartment, looking entirely too smug. “You’ve gotta stop doing this,” Bitty says.

Ransom just smirks, grabbing Bitty’s duffel and hauling it into the apartment. Bitty follows with a sigh.

\--

After about half-an-hour of mingling and catching up — “What exactly is Maya doing here?” Bitty had asked Nursey — Shitty stands on top of the couch, clears his throat, and bangs his fork against his beer can in order to gather the other eleven people in the apartment in a circle around him.

“Alright everyone,” Shitty announces once he has everyone’s attention. He holds a flashlight under his chin to add dramatic effect, even though the lights in the room aren’t turned off. “The game...is True American.”

“50% drinking game,” Lardo continues from next to Shitty, “50% lifetime Candyland.”

Ransom makes a face. “Eh, it’s more like 60% drinking, 40% Candyland.”

“I’ve always thought of it as 90% drinking with a loose, Candyland-like structure,” Chowder comments.

Shitty rolls his eyes. “Whatever. The point is, it’s part-drinking-game part-Candyland with American themes throughout.”

“And, most importantly,” Bitty adds. “The floor is lava.”

Maya bites her lip. “Okay, I’m already confused.”

“Me too,” says March with a frown.

“It’ll make more sense as the game goes on,” Dex assures them.

“Yes, and the sooner we start, the sooner we're done, so...” Bitty says.

Ransom raises his eyebrows at Bitty. “What, you've got another hot Tinder date after this?”

Bitty immediately turns scarlet, and pointedly doesn't look at Jack to gauge his reaction, no matter how much he wants to. “I went on  _one_ Tinder date. _One,”_  Bitty says with gritted teeth. “Not that it matters. And  _no._ It's a Sunday night, and  _some_ of us have to be at work early tomorrow.”

“Whatever you say,” Ransom sing-songs, and Bitty grinds his teeth further.

“Yo, Shitty, we doing teams?” Holster asks.

“Uh, duh,” Shitty says. “This is like, the biggest game of True American we’ve ever had.”

“Hell yeah it is,” Lardo cheers, and then, without preamble, shouts, “One, two, three, four!”

Immediately, the group holds their hands up to their forehead, holding up an amount of fingers to indicate a number. Nursey and Chowder nudge Maya and Farmer, respectively, who still look confused, until Maya puts up a three, same as Nursey, and Farmer puts up a two, same as Chowder. Jack and March, who also look confused, just put up the same number as Bitty, who stands in between them. And April, who stands confused for far longer than everyone else, finally holds up the same number as March.

Holster gasps at April, offended. “What, you don’t want to be on my team?” He asks. He's holding up a one, same as Ransom and Lardo.

“I just copied March,” April says, defensive. “It’s not like you gave us any instructions.”

“Oh, right,” Holster says. “Well, firstly there are four zones. And an alternate zone, but that’s a crazy zone.”

“Right,” April says, still sounding just as confused.

“And these,” Holster says, gesturing to the coffee table, where a giant bottle of liquor is surrounded by tons of cans of beer, “Are the pawns.” 

“They’re the soldiers of the Secret Order,” Chowder adds.

“And this is the King of the Castle,” Nursey explains, pointing to the giant bottle of liquor.

“Now remember,” Dex says. “Everything you hear in True American is a lie, knock on wood.” He knocks on the wall next to him to demonstrate.

Jack blinks. “I’m so con—”

“Shh,” Ransom hisses. Startled, Jack shuts his mouth.

“And again, the floor is lava,” Holster repeats. “You move in the game by jumping on different objects of furniture.”

“So yeah, that’s about the gist,” Lardo finishes. “Oh, and the game begins with a shotgun tip-off.”

Maya, who has spent the last several minutes of bare minimum explanation looking more and more confused, lights up at that. “Oh,  _ this  _ I can do,” she says with confidence, and then steps towards Lardo to take the proffered beer. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she cuts into the side of the beer with the pocket knife Dex wordlessly handed her and raises the spraying liquid to her mouth, gulping it all in one go as everyone watches in awe. 

Lardo whistles when Maya finishes, and Maya grins, tossing the beer can to the side.

Chowder turns to Nursey, who’s still gaping with an almost reverent look on his face. “You’re welcome,” he says matter-of-factly.

Nursey glares at him.

“Alright, everyone ready?” Shitty asks, scanning the small crowd gathered in front of him.

Farmer makes a face. “Well, I’m still a little confused about — ”

“One, two, three, four!” Shitty chants, completely cutting Farmer off. “JFK!”

“FDR!” Lardo, Holster, Ransom, Bitty, Dex, Nursey, and Chowder shout in unison, and the seven of them plus Shitty immediately grab a beer and jump on the closest object of furniture. Jack, March, April, and Maya, new to this and a little slow to the uptake, stare for a moment.

“What are you doing?” Holster shouts. “You’re in the lava!”

Quickly, the four of them grab a drink and follow suit.

For this particular game, there are four teams: Bitty, Jack, March, and April; Chowder, Farmer, and Shitty; Lardo, Ransom, and Holster; and Nursey, Dex, and Maya. All four teams bring something to the table, though it becomes clear as the game goes on that Bitty, Jack, March, and April won’t be bringing home a win. They’re decent players, of course, all former or present strong athletes, and they also have the Prohibition bylaw working to their team’s advantage, meaning none of them are wasted. But unfortunately, Jack, April, and March have so much trouble understanding the game that they can’t help but weigh Bitty down. Bitty doesn’t seem that angry, however — surprising, because he’s normally very competitive when it comes to True American. If anything, he seems patient, all too willing to explain rules to his teammates — especially if that teammate is Jack. Predictable.

Evidently, Jack gains a grip of the game about thirty minutes in, because he says, suddenly, in the middle of his turn, “Hey. This is a lot like hockey.”

This statement is so surprising and unexpected that it causes every other person in the room to come to a halt.

“What?” Ransom demands.

Jack rubs the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “You know...there’s teams, and a goal, and — ”

“Less talking, more playing, Zimmermann,” Lardo commands from her spot on the armchair at the other side of the room, and Jack shuts up and gets back to work.

Meanwhile, Shitty, Chowder, and Farmer’s team has the advantage of Shitty and Chowder being experienced, competitive and determined players, not to mention that Shitty came up with the game and knows it better than anyone else. However, they also have the added advantage of Farmer being not only a quick learner, but also just as competitive and determined as Shitty and Chowder. In fact, it’s uncanny how quickly she picks up on the game — in less than ten minutes, it seems like she’s got the rules down-pat.

Unfortunately, Shitty, Chowder, and Farmer’s team also faces several disadvantages, in that Chowder is a huge lightweight and also in that Chowder and Farmer are so ridiculously into each other that they spend far too much time flirting and far too little time focusing on the game, much to Shitty’s chagrin. In fact, it gets so bad that Chowder and Farmer end up separated from Shitty — in the middle of the Battle of Yorktown, Chowder and Farmer choose to dash under the kitchen table (sitting on the fluffy pillows stolen from Ransom’s bed, of course, so they’re not in the lava) for refuge, leaving Shitty defenseless over by the couches.

“You know, you’re surprisingly good at this,” Chowder comments, whispering so as not to be overheard by the enemy.

Farmer flips her hair mockingly, and Chowder giggles. “Well, I  _ am  _ pretty competitive,” she whispers back. “Volleyball will do that to you.”

“No, I know,” Chowder says. “I don’t mean that. I just meant — you’re good at  _ this.  _ Being here. Fitting in with the rest of my friends like we’ve known each other for ages.” Farmer’s gaze softens, but she doesn’t respond, and Chowder begins to freak out a little. “That was lame. It was lame, wasn’t it? Sorry, I just meant — ”

“It wasn’t lame,” Farmer cuts him off gently, giving him a soft smile. “It was sweet.” Chowder flushes, and Farmer continues with a shrug, “I like your friends. They’re cool.”

“I’ll never surrender!” Nursey shouts dramatically right at that moment. Chowder peers out from under the table to see him narrowly dodge the empty and crushed up beer cans Lardo’s throwing. “You’ll never take me alive!”

Chowder turns back to Farmer.

“Your friends are fun to hang out with,” she amends, and Chowder laughs.

But the real team to beat, as per usual, is Ransom, Holster, and Lardo. Long ago, Shitty created a bylaw that forbade Ransom, Holster, and Lardo from joining forces in Team True American, simply because the three together were far too powerful. But a couple of years later, the rule was repealed on the grounds that it was unjust and discriminatory. The grounds may have been fair, but the original bylaw was just as fair, because Ransom, Holster, and Lardo are merciless and ruthless and almost impossible to beat. Ransom and Holster together are bad enough, as they have a syncrecity that’s almost inhuman, but adding Lardo, seemingly the only other person in the world with access into their hive mind, is even more dangerous. Someday, the three will get together and do some serious damage, and no one will stop them. They could take over the world, probably.

Still, despite this, Dex, Nursey, and Maya are giving Ransom, Holster, and Lardo a run for their money. Despite his inability to hold his own liquor, Nursey is creative, and can be pretty strategic in serious situations, and nothing, of course, is quite as serious as True American.

Maya, on the other hand, is surprisingly great at True American for someone who only learned the rules that night. She’s a quick thinker, composed under pressure, and competitive —all qualities that come with being a CEO, probably. But most surprising — to Dex, at least — is that Maya is...really nice. She’s nice to their roommates: polite, courteous, gracious that they’ve invited her into their home to play a drinking game on a Sunday night. And she’s nice to Nursey, of course: all-too-willing to offer him a shoulder to lean on when he gets a little clumsy due to the alcohol. But what’s weird is how nice she is to  _ Dex _ . 

She’s nice in subtle ways, but it’s definitely there — she compliments Dex’s ideas, and is quick to offer suggestions when he asks for advice. But it’s when she saves Dex from falling into the lava, nearly falling in herself, that Dex decides it’s too much.

“Nice save, Maya!” Nursey calls from the top of the kitchen table on the other side of the room.

“What was that for?” Dex demands after Maya has pulled him back up onto the armchair and into safety.

She raises her eyebrows. “Uh, because I don’t want to lose? We are teammates, after all.”

“No, I mean — ” Dex hesitates. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Maya glances over at Nursey, almost self-consciously. He’s busy drinking a beer and paying no attention to them at all, so she turns back to Dex. “Well, you’re friends with Derek, right?”

Dex stares. “You really like him, don’t you?” He says, almost to himself.

Maya just smiles with an almost embarrassed shrug, and then jumps onto the next chair.

\--

About an hour into the game, Bitty calls a sidebar.

“Sidebar?” Lardo demands. “For what?”

“I need to reconvene with another member of the opposing team,” Bitty says. “...Ransom.”

Ransom, who was in the midst of launching a pillow at Chowder’s head, slowly lowers his arm and blinks, confused. “Me?”

“Yes,” Bitty says with a nod. “I need to discuss...strategies.” Ransom blinks again, and Bitty just sighs. “Just meet me under the kitchen table, Rans.”

Ransom looks over at Holster, who just shrugs. Then, dutifully, Ransom follows Bitty underneath the kitchen table, where the pillows that  _ someone  _ — probably Chowder — stole from his bed are still arranged. “Is this about Mount Vernon?” Ransom asks, carefully situating himself so that no part of his body is touching the lava. “Because I swear Holster threw the first shot, not — ”

“No it’s not about Mount Vernon,” Bitty says with an eye-roll. “It’s about  _ Jack. _ ”

“Jack? What about him?”

Bitty reaches forward and grabs Ransom, shaking him frantically. “He’s driving me  _ crazy,  _ Ransom!” Ransom blinks, startled. “All weekend he’s been smiley and cute and  _ ugh  _ and now playing this game he’s like...always  _ so close!  _ And I — ”

“I can’t believe you did a sidebar to talk about your  _ boy problems. _ ”

Bitty swats Ransom on the arm. “This is serious, Rans! I think — ” Then he drops his voice to a whisper. “I think he almost kissed me last night.”

Ransom’s eyes grow as wide as saucers. “He WHAT?”

“Shh!” Bitty hisses, darting a glance back over at the group, which is luckily too busy interrogating Dex to overhear. “I said I  _ think,  _ but I’m not sure.” Ransom raises his eyebrows. “Look, if this were anyone else? I’d say I was being flirted with. But it’s  _ Jack Zimmermann.  _ Like, there’s no world where Jack Zimmermann would be flirting with me, even if he wasn’t straight.”

Ransom regards Bitty for a long time. Finally, he says, “You wanna know what I think?”

“Yes, Ransom,” Bitty says. “That’s why I called a sidebar.”

“I think you should go for it.”

Bitty stares. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Ransom says matter-of-factly. Bitty is still staring. “Look, in my professional opinion? Jack has been flirting with you this whole night. He  _ likes  _ you, Bitty, and you obviously like him. So tonight, after everyone’s gone their separate ways and Jack is still hanging around for an excuse to talk to you, you should try to get into his pants.”

“ _ Rans! _ ” Bitty hisses, scandalized, and hits him on the arm again.

“I’m serious! What’s the worse that can happen?”

Bitty raises a singular eyebrow. “Uh, he says no, gets offended, and reports me for sexual harassment because, in case you forgot, we are  _ coworkers? _ ”

Ransom gives Bitty a look. “We both know that’s not going to happen. Even if he  _ does  _ reject you, you guys are friends. There’s no way he wouldn’t be polite about it. And anyway, you can be subtle about getting into his pants, just to be safe.”

Bitty purses his lips, and it looks like he’s actually considering Ransom’s plan, but then he changes the subject. “All of this is way too easy for you to say.” When Ransom just looks at him expectantly, he continues, “You’ve got that whole slow-burn romance thing with March.”

“There’s nothing going on with me and March,” Ransom says immediately, because there’s not. Sure, they get brunch together almost weekly, but that’s just an outlet for them to vent about their roommates, not because they’re secretly in love or dating or whatever else Bitty is imagining.

Bitty looks at him knowingly. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

“No, really. There’s not.”

“C’mon, Rans,” Bitty says, giving his arm a shake. “Think about how cute it would be if you and March turned your weekly brunch dates into double-dates with Holster and April!”

Ransom makes a face, because that idea is just...well, weird. “Not happening.”

“Fine,” Bitty sighs. “Well, in any case, at least Holster seems really happy with April.” He turns to watch the two of them on the other side of the room, a small smile on his face. “I think he really likes her.”

Ransom follows Bitty’s gaze, where Holster and April are standing on the same couch, in the midst of some sort of tug-of-war in attempt to get the other to fall into lava. Grinning mischievously, Holster grabs April by the waist, tossing her over his shoulder. April, punching Holster on the back, laughs.

“Yeah. He does,” Ransom says after a little while, and then turns away, feeling weird again. Has Abby  _ really  _ thought he and Holster were dating this whole time? 

Bitty looks at Ransom with scrutiny, and whatever weird feelings he has must reflect on his face, because he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Ransom says. Bitty just lifts an eyebrow again. “Just, this wedding was weird.”

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know,” Ransom says with a sigh. He looks over at Holster and April again, then turns back to Bitty and hesitates before asking, “Have you ever thought that me and Holster were — ”

“Time’s up!” Lardo calls from the other side of the room. “End the sidebar!”

Bitty grumbles and he and Ransom slowly emerge from underneath the kitchen table. “Hey,” Bitty hisses as the two of them make their way back to the group, and Ransom glances over. “Thanks for the advice.”

Ransom beams and shoots Bitty a thumbs-up. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

\--

About two hours into the game, things start winding down. Both March and Chowder fall into the lava at some point, meaning both their teams are out. So in the end, it’s Ransom, Holster, and Lardo vs. Dex, Nursey, and Maya, while the rest of their friends stand on the sidelines, cheering them on. As the underdogs, Dex’s team gets the most cheers (much to Holster’s annoyance), but the winner isn’t clear — at this point, it’s anybody’s game.

But when Maya scores the point that puts them one point ahead of the other team, Lardo calls a time-out for a strategy meeting. “We have a lot to discuss,” she informs them, before pulling Holster and Ransom into a huddle.

“Yeah, well,” Nursey says. “So do we.” And then he pulls Maya and Dex into a huddle as well, whispering, “We have to win.”

“Well, yeah, duh,” Dex says. “Got any pointers for that, Nurse?”

“I think…” Nursey says slowly. “That we should just keep doing what we’re doing.”

Dex sighs. “Great. Great advice.”

Nursey beams, and Maya giggles at him, patting him on the arm, which causes Nursey to do the bashful head-duck he always does when he’s embarrassed. It strikes Dex suddenly that he has no idea when he started cataloging Nursey’s gestures. It also strikes Dex how weird it is to watch Nursey loose his fake chill around people he doesn’t live with.

So when Maya jumps onto the next object of furniture, leaving Dex and Nursey alone on the kitchen chair, Dex says, “Why haven’t you asked her out yet?”

Nursey gets so startled that he almost falls off the chair. “What?” Dex just looks at him expectantly, and Nursey glances over at Maya to make sure she’s not listening before muttering, “Uh, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re all a little busy right now.”

Dex shrugs. “Ask her out after, then.”

Nursey hesitates. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” When Dex just waits, he sighs and continues, “I mean, she’s way out of my league. And sure, she’s here and she saved me from choking on a sandwich but...she’s spent so long at school antagonizing me and shooting me down. I just don’t know if she’s actually interested in me.”

Dex just stares, because this is the stupidest thing he’s ever heard Nursey say, and he’s heard a lot of shit come out of Nursey’s mouth. Because firstly, there’s probably no one in the world out of Derek Nurse’s league, and secondly, there is no way Nursey can be this blind.

“Dude,” Dex says with a huge sigh. “Just talk to her about it.” And when Nursey still looks hesitant, Dex adds, “She really likes you, Nursey.”

Nursey blinks. “She does?”

Dex pats Nursey on the shoulder. “Yeah, man.”

“Huh,” Nursey says, smiling a little to himself. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Dex repeats. “Now let’s win this thing.”

Despite the confidence Dex invokes, however, no one is more surprised than him when about thirty minutes later, Maya scores the winning shot for their team. 

Ransom, Holster, and Lardo are disappointed about losing their winning streak, but their mood shapes up when Bitty heats up his leftover homemade buffalo dip he found in the fridge. Chowder is so excited that he lets off a giant confetti cannon, though Dex has no idea where he got that from.

But no one is quite as triumphant as Dex, Nursey, and Maya, who immediately scream and pull one another into a huge group hug. Nursey ruffles Dex’s hair, making him grunt on instinct even though he’s still grinning, and then he pulls Maya onto his back for a piggy-back ride, taking a victory lap around the apartment as Maya laughs.

But as Dex stands there, basking in his win and watching his friends, he’s suddenly stunned by the realization that all of his friends have a pair. Shitty has Lardo, Chowder has Farmer, Holster has April, Ransom has March (even though they swear they aren’t dating), Nursey has Maya, now, and Bitty has Jack, whether he wants to admit it or not. They all have their own person, and they’re all divided into couples, and Dex has no one.

It sounds dramatic, because he does have  _ people _ : he has his roommates, and he has his friends, all of whom have stuck by him for ages and who he’s incredibly thankful for. But Dex doesn’t have a  _ person  _ that’s specifically his, and everyone else does. It’s a thought that’s sobering enough that it brings him down from the high of his win, and it makes him feel more lonely than he imagined he would.

His face must betray his inner thoughts, because suddenly Nursey is standing next to him again, frowning concernedly. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Dex says, automatically. He might be picking up a few too many habits from Nursey. Just as long as he doesn’t start saying “chill” all the time. He’s also been zoned out longer than he realized, so he asks, “Where’s Maya at?”

Nursey lets out a snort. “Over there,” he says, gesturing over to where Maya stands with Shitty and Lardo. “She bet them that she could do a shotgun tip-off quicker than they could.”

Nursey sounds far too lovestruck and reverent in this context — probably due to the amount of alcohol he’s consumed — which should be funny, but instead it makes Dex’s stomach twist kind of uncomfortably. “Well, is she winning?”

“Yeah,” Nursey sighs dreamily.

“Nice,” Dex says, but his voice sounds a little tight. He clears his throat. “You asked her out yet?”

“No.” Nursey looks back at Dex. “You sure you’re alright?”

But Dex has unloaded way too much emotional shit onto Nursey this weekend, and he’s not about to turn this party into a feels session. Besides, what could Nursey say to change anything? What could  _ any  _ of them say? No matter what their assurances would be — that Dex was a catch, that Dex was bound to find someone eventually — it wouldn’t change the fact that Dex was still alone.

So he says, “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m feeling a little tired, though. Might head to bed.”

Nursey frowns deeper. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Dex says. “‘Night, Nursey. And seriously? Ask her out already.”

“Yes sir,” Nursey says with a salute, and then gives Dex a small smile before joining Maya to cheer her on, and Dex turns and heads towards his room.

Once he’s there, he feels too lousy to change into pajamas, so he just yanks off his jeans, tosses them in the hamper, and climbs into bed.

It sucks, Dex decides. It sucks that all of his friends are happy with someone else, whether it’s a girlfriend or potential boyfriend or a friend who Ransom is apparently not dating but is still close with anyway. Because Dex wants someone, too — no one in particular, just a hypothetical  _ someone.  _ A someone he apparently won’t let himself have because he’s still hung up on a relationship that ended a while ago.

What’s worse is that what Nursey and Chowder had been saying earlier — that Dex deserves someone who knows him and understands him and cares about him — that’s something he’s never felt. Not really, anyway. Not except for with one person. And Dex isn’t sure there’s really anybody else out there that’ll make him feel that way again.

With a sigh, he rolls over and grabs his phone from his bedside table. It’s nine, which isn’t terribly late, all things considered. 

Still, he hesitates before inhaling and then hitting “Dial.”

The phone rings a few times, and Dex is half-expecting no answer, when the other end picks up. “Will?”

Dex lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Hey. Uh, sorry it’s so late. Um...can we talk?”

\--

At around ten o’clock, when they’ve run out of beer and chips and Chowder has just finished cleaning up the plate of buffalo dip he knocked onto the kitchen floor, Maya announces that she’s going to head out.

Seizing the opportunity he’s been presented with, Nursey quickly pipes up, “I’ll walk you out.”

Maya smiles gratefully at him. “Thanks, Derek.”

As the two of them are walking out the apartment, Chowder makes kissy faces at Nursey when Maya’s back is turned. Nursey flips him off.

“That was actually a lot of fun,” Maya says as they leave the building. Maya’s car — a Honda civic, one of the newer models, probably — is parked across the street, only a short distance from Nursey’s building. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“That was all Chris,” Nursey says, because it’s true, and Maya snorts. “But you’re welcome.”

When the two of them reach her car, Maya unlocks the door. But instead of moving to open the driver’s side door, she stops on the sidewalk and says, “Hey, I’m sorry about…” Her voice trails off, and then she shrugs. “Well, everything, I guess.”

“Oh,” Nursey says, startled. “Listen, you don’t have to — ”

“No, really, I do,” Maya says. She smiles in a sheepish sort of way. “I’ve been...well, honestly, I’ve been kind of a bitch.” Nursey’s eyes widen, and Maya snorts again. “I just...I know you probably think I’m this successful business woman who has everything all together, and I really, really wish that woman was me, but the truth is, it isn’t.” She blows out a sigh, fanning her bangs into the air. “Like, I like to be in control of my life, but when things are out of my control, I freak out and try to take over, and that’s not right. And that’s what I tried to do with your classroom, and I’m sorry about that. I’m...trying to let go and be less obsessive, especially to people who clearly know better than me. I mean, my kid barely tolerates me these days. The fact that you can get through to him?” She laughs a little humorlessly. “You’re like, a superhero as far as I’m concerned.” 

Nursey feels the back of his neck burn at the compliment. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up too hard. Every time they yell at you it means you’re doing something right.”

Maya blinks. “Really?”

Nursey cracks a smile. “Nah, that’s just something I tell parents to make them feel better.”

Maya lets out a surprised laugh. “Well, anyway. I just wanted to apologize. For real this time. I’ve been so awful to you at PTA meetings all year, all just because I’m overly obsessive and controlling and a major bitch — ”

“It’s alright, Maya, really — ”

“And, maybe partly…” Maya cuts him off, looking at her car instead of at Nursey, “I was maybe hoping to get your attention because I had…” She brings her thumb and forefinger close together in a pinch. “A very tiny crush on you.”

The world spins to a halt.

“Wait,” Nursey says. “Seriously?” Maya nods. She still isn’t quite looking at him. “You had a crush on  _ me? _ ”

Maya laughs quietly. “Embarrassing, I know.”

“But you’re…” Nursey stammers, flustered. “You!”

“Yeah, and you’re  _ you, _ ” Maya says with a shy sort of grin, and nudges him in the arm.

Nursey feels almost like Maya is speaking to him in Greek. “So this whole time — ”

“I’ve been very attracted to you and wanted to go on a date with you, yes. Though this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Maya says. Her voice is light and teasing, but she’s flushing. She’s probably the most beautiful woman Nursey has met in his whole life. He feels like he’s being punk’d.

“So,” Nursey says, trying to invoke the false chill he exhibits in front of everyone else that he’s been lacking all night. “What did you have in mind?”

Maya lifts one eyebrow, almost surprised. Then her mouth slowly spreads in a smile. “Hm. Do you like Indian food?”

“I  _ love  _ Indian food,” Nursey insists, a little too quickly.

Maya grins. “Well then, it’s a date.”

“Chill,” Nursey positively beams.

\--

After Dex and Ransom went to bed, March went back to her apartment, Nursey came back from walking Maya to her car, and Holster and Chowder not-so-sneakily left with April and Farmer, Jack stays. And Bitty tries not to, but he thinks about what Ransom had said earlier — about how Jack would make an excuse to stick around after everyone had left, just to spend time with him. And sure enough, after everyone dispersed, Jack had quietly offered to help Bitty clean up.

Only now, the apartment is spotless, but Jack is still here.

“That was a lot of fun,” Jack says, next to Bitty on the cracked leather couch of the quiet apartment. The silence makes Jack whisper, which makes everything feel more intimate, but not in a scary way. It’s actually...nice.

“We’ve never had that many people playing at once,” Bitty says, sipping his Falconers water bottle. He’s trying to stave off his hangover before it actually starts, although in all honesty, he only feels a little tipsy. “Even in college it wasn’t that bad.”

“You guys played in college?”

“Oh, that’s when we came up with it. It was Shitty’s idea. Naturally.”

“Naturally,” Jack agrees.

Bitty shrugs. “It’s a stupid game, but it was fun, you know? I loved hockey, but it could be stressful, and classes...well, let’s just say I barely escaped school with a 3.0.” 

“Too busy baking pies?” Jack asks with a warm smile, and Bitty just can’t help but lean into Jack’s shoulder as he laughs quietly. 

“Maybe,” he admits. “And I know a bunch of loud and drunk hockey boys playing a drinking game doesn’t sound relaxing, but it was a way to wind down. Kinda like all our kegsters, but better, because it was just us.”

Jack lets out a hum. “I think it’s nice. That you have a group of friends like that, I mean. People you’ve been close to for so long that you’re like family. They’re good guys.”

Bitty smiles softly. “Yeah,” he admits. “It is nice.”

“I never had anything like that. I mean, I have my family, obviously. And I’ve had friends. Just...not like that.”

And Bitty knows he’s supposed to be avoiding Jack. Obviously, he knows. But Jack has stuck by his side all night, teasing him and smiling at him and laughing at Bitty’s friends antics. And it’s easy — so easy — to imagine a world where this is normal, where Bitty and Jack are dating, because Jack just fits in  _ so well _ with the rest of Bitty’s life. And Ransom had seemed so sure, so confident, that maybe that was a life he could have — that maybe Jack liked him, too. And Ransom, with his bio degree and Excel spreadsheets, is the smartest guy Bitty knows. Could he really be wrong about something like this?

And in the end, it’s that question that makes Bitty bold. So he smiles, leans in close, and says, “Well, their loss.”

Jack looks at him for a long time, and just as Bitty’s beginning to worry he was too forward, Jack finally bites his lip and looks down and says, in the quietest voice, “Hey...do you wanna go back to mine?”

Time stops, and for a minute, Bitty is convinced he’s hearing things, or that he’s interpreting everything wrong. But then Jack looks up, his expression a mixture of shy and hopeful and maybe even...flirty?

_ Holy shit,  _ Bitty thinks.

“Yeah,” he hears himself say, because he’s internally freaking out. This is  _ Jack.  _ “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Jack beams, stands up, and stretches out his hand. Bitty takes it and follows him out the door.

\--

When Bitty sneaks back into the apartment Monday morning, he tries to be subtle about it. Only apparently he and Jack hadn’t done as good of a job at cleaning the apartment as he thought, because as soon as he’s in the apartment, he trips over a pile of beer cans sitting right next to the door, and immediately after the crash, Holster enters the living room, still blinking sleepily.

Bitty cringes.

Holster looks at Bitty, then at the cans he knocked over, and rubs his eyes. “Dude. Did you just come in?”

Bitty, who is haphazardly dressed in the same clothes from last night and standing right next to the door, says, “Uh...no.”

Holster just raises his eyebrows. “Dude. It’s like 6 am.”

“I — ”

“Wait,” Holster says. His eyes widen. “Is that a  _ hickey? _ ” Bitty immediately flushes. “Dude! You got  _ laid! _ ”

Bitty begins to panic, because seeing as he was convinced Jack was straight up until six hours ago, he’s definitely not out. And it’s not exactly like he can out Jack to Holster without his permission. Bitty hadn’t even been planning to tell  _ anyone  _ about last night, in fact, much less the person with the biggest mouth he knows. But Holster isn’t stupid, and it’s only a matter of time before he puts two and two —

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

Bitty stares. “What?”

“Someone from Tinder, right?” Bitty opens his mouth to reply, but no sound comes out. “Dude, you’re speechless. Was it that good?” Holster jokes.

_ Huh,  _ Bitty thinks to himself, relieved and a little astonished.  _ Maybe Holster’s a little stupider than I thought. _

“He was good, alright,” Bitty mumbles, wandering into the kitchen to make him coffee. Holster wolf-whistles and follows him until Bitty shushes him. “Keep your voice down,” he hisses.

“Why?” Holster asks. “You got  _ laid _ , bro! It’s been a while, right?”

Bitty narrows his eyes. “Not as long as it had been for  _ you  _ before April.”

Holster placed his hand over his heart, mock-offended. “Harsh.”

Bitty sighs as he dumps an unhealthy amount of sugar into his mug. “I just don’t exactly want to advertise it because…”  _ Because just because you went to April’s and didn’t notice that me and Jack were the last ones awake in the apartment doesn’t mean that everyone else did.  _ “...Because of Ransom,” Bitty finally says.

Holster blinks, confused. “Ransom?”

“Yeah,” Bitty says, avoiding Holster’s gaze as he stirs his coffee. “Just, you know. He’s been meddling with me and Jack a lot. I think he really wants us to get together. I don’t want to disappoint him, you know?”

“Oh,” Holster says, like Bitty’s logic makes all the sense in the world and isn’t a last-minute excuse. “Okay, got it. My lips are sealed, I swear.”

Bitty lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Then he sips his coffee, content to sit in companionable silence with Holster for the next ten minutes until he inevitably has to get dressed and go to work. With the Falconers. Where Jack, his coworker and neighbor, who he just slept with, will be. Jack, as in the guy he just had really great sex with but doesn’t know if it was a one-time thing, or a friends-with-benefits thing, or a “I want to date you” thing.

Bitty takes a long sip of coffee just to avoid groaning out loud. It’s going to be a long day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I ended w/ a few cliff-hangers at the end but I'm not sure yet when chapter 6 will be up as I barely have a few paragraphs of it written :( I'm going to try to post it sometime this month (as I intend for it to take place during February) but if I'm being honest, it's not likely. But just know I'm working on it!!
> 
> Also, I usually try to have the chapters focus at least a little bit on all of characters, but this chapter was mainly focused on Bitty, which is partly because this chapter and last chapter were originally going to be combined. Next chapter will have more of a focus on everyone else I promise!!
> 
> Up next: showtunes road trip and the return of the Waffles!


	6. Vegas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nursey worries that his relationship with Maya is too good to be true. Meanwhile, as everyone else is making their Valentine's Day plans, Holster makes an impromptu road trip to Vegas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another chapter that got split up from one massive chapter into two smaller sections, yay!!!
> 
> As always, a playlist for this fic can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/gracemcgready/playlist/3p1LgJ0P3SCtBUut5Px4pJ?si=MdSPH7JpQGmYOprlSMG-Fg)!

It’s been over a month since True American, which means Nursey has officially been dating Maya for about a month, and things are...good. Really good, actually. Maya’s already proven twice over that she fits really well in Nursey’s life, but Nursey’s surprised at just how easily he fits into Maya’s. They have a lot in common: they both love Indian food, Jane Austen, and horror movies that you can analyze for deep subliminal messages. And of course, Nursey loves Maya’s kid, who seems to love Nursey right back; every night Maya doesn’t invite Nursey over for dinner, Leo throws a fit. And Nursey knows it’s only been a month, but he thinks this is maybe the most successful relationship he’s ever been in.

Except for one very small detail.

“We’ve never fought,” Nursey tells Bully, Hops, and Louis during planning period, or as it’s more commonly known, shit-talking period. “Like, not even one argument.”

“I’m failing to see how that’s a bad thing,” Bully says, eyebrows raised. 

Nursey sighs. “I’m just worried that...maybe things are going too well?”

“You’re overthinking this, dude,” Bully declares.

“Well, I wouldn’t have been thinking about it at all,” Nursey says. “Except for I ran into Maya’s ex Shruti the other day, and — ”

“You’re worried about the  _ ex? _ ” Hops gapes. “Dude.”

“As I was  _ saying, _ ” Nursey says, shooting Hops a dirty look. “I ran into her at the gym yesterday, and it wasn’t a big deal or anything, obviously, because it’s not awkward and we’ve met before. Like, she’s Leo’s mom too, you know? So Shruti and I were chatting and running on the treadmill and then she asked how things were going with Maya and I said great, because, you know, they’re great. And then she started going on about how being with Maya is this crazy roller-coaster filled with passion and excitement like standing on the bow of a catamaran being blasted with spray during a perfect storm and she was like, ‘You know what I mean?’ and I was like, ‘Yeah, totally, 100%, sometimes I’m just like, ‘Let’s put away the passion and just have a moderately good time, Maya.’”

Louis, Hops, and Bully just stare at Nursey for a long time before Louis blinks and says, “What?”

Nursey sighs. “It was just really weird, alright? And now I’m like….I don’t know,” Nursey shrugs and picks at the chipped wood on the coffee table. “I guess now I’m worried Shruti and Maya still have residual feelings for each other or something weird like that. And like, how can I match up to  _ that? _ ”

Hops bites his lip. “Okay. It  _ is  _ kind of weird, but…has Maya said anything to suggest there’s still something there between her and Shruti?”

“Well no, but — ”

Hops shrugs. “Then there you have it.”

“I agree with Hops,” Louis says. “I really don’t think you have anything to worry about. I mean, Maya’s super hot, and she really likes you. And I bet the sex is pretty good, too.”

“Louis!” Hops scolds. “Inappropriate!”

“The sex is pretty great,” Nursey admits. Louis high-fives him, and Hops rolls his eyes. “Maybe you guys are right.”

“We’re definitely right,” Louis says confidently, and Bully nods in agreement. Hops gives Nursey a thumbs up. “Now stop worrying about it so I can talk about  _ my  _ problems.”

Nursey rolls his eyes, but listens dutifully as Louis rants about how Willa Hendricks got her arm stuck in the vegan snack vending machine during recess, and decides to put the matter behind him. 

For now.

\--

“You sure you’ve packed enough?” Holster asks with raised eyebrows as he loads April’s fifth and final suitcase into the back of her SUV.

April raises her eyebrows back. “You’ve clearly never been on a bachelorette trip. That suitcase you just put in is filled exclusively with penis shaped candy.”

Holster laughs out loud at that. “How long are you gone again?” 

“Not that long, just a long weekend,” April says, and then she smirks a little. “But you know, if you don’t  _ want  _ me to go…”

“No, it’s not that,” Holster says, because it’s not. If anyone doesn’t want April to go, it’s April, who’s been complaining about her coworker’s bachelorette weekend for the past month. Though, admittedly, March hasn’t been too thrilled about it either, since apparently April’s skipping out on their annual Valentine’s Day Rom-Com Movie Marathon. 

“I think you  _ should  _ go,” Holster says. “It’ll be fun. Besides, I’ve spent the past, like, five nights in your apartment. We could probably use some space.”

For a minute, April just stares at Holster. Then she lets out an irritated sigh and closes the trunk of her SUV with a  _ slam  _ before marching to the driver’s door.

“Uh,” Holster says, peering around the car at her. “Did I say something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” April says coolly, looking at him over her shoulder as she opens the door to her car. “I couldn’t hear you over all this  _ space. _ ”

“Uh,” Holster says again, and April rolls her eyes and gets inside the car.

“See you in a few days, Adam,” she says, and then she slams the door shut behind her.

\--

The morning of Valentine’s Day, Bitty wakes up three hours earlier than usual, pulls a red velvet cake out of his secret hiding spot in the fridge, and bursts into Nursey’s room with the rest of his roommates, Shitty, and Lardo in tow. Nursey, admittedly, is very started and confused when he wakes up, but after he realizes that the song they’re singing loudly and off-tune is “Happy Birthday,” he beams widely.

“Thanks, guys!” Nursey says excitedly after their loud and off-key rendition of Happy Birthday is over. “Seriously, this is awesome. It means a lot.”

“I just still can’t believe your birthday is on Valentine’s Day,” grumbles Dex, who’s allergic to both compliments and emotional intimacy.

Luckily, Nursey ignores him. “Is that red velvet?” He asks, pointing at Bitty’s cake.

Bitty scoffs. “Duh, it’s your favorite.”

Nursey’s smile grows even wider. “You are literally my favorite person on Earth.”

Bitty flushes, pleased.

Lardo raises her eyebrows. “So...cake for breakfast?”

Everyone agrees, and they move into the kitchen to share Nursey’s massive birthday cake. Nursey, of course, gets first dibs, and naturally slices himself the biggest piece.

“So,” Nursey says after they’re all squeezed into the several couches and armchairs in their living room. “You guys got any exciting V-Day plans tonight?”

“Not unless doing your taxes counts,” Dex says around a mouthful of cake.

“Dude,” Shitty says, almost pityingly, and Dex flips him off. Shitty shakes his head. “Don’t worry, Dex. You can be my Valentine.”

Dex flips him off with his other hand, as well.

“I’m surprised you’re even staying in at all,” Nursey comments, giving Dex a suspicious look. “You’re like, barely around anymore.”

Dex shrugs, but it’s true, Bitty realizes. Dex is a homebody, and typically hangs out around the loft when he’s not at work, but lately he’s been going out on the weekends, though Bitty has no clue where. And he  _ swears  _ he thinks Dex sometimes doesn’t get in until the morning.

Not that it’s any of Bitty’s business, of course. And besides, he’s the last person who should be judging Dex’s late-night extracurriculars.

“Well, April’s out of town, and also, she was kinda weird the other day,” Holster says with a slight frown. “So Rans and I will probably stick to our usual tradition of watching  _ Love Actually. _ ”

“Hell yeah,” Ransom says, holding out his fist. Holster bumps it without looking.

“Lards and I will also be sticking to our usual tradition,” Shitty says. “Waffle House and then a wine and podcast night at home.” 

“Typical,” says Chowder with approval. He loves a good podcast.

Lardo nods. “What about you, Chow?”

“Well! Cait and I decided to forgo the whole ‘romantic candlelit dinner’ vibe and instead we’re gonna go bar hopping and I’m gonna fake propose at each bar so we can get free drinks, so. Should be fun!” When Chowder’s met with silence, his eyebrows scrunch together like they usually do when he’s concerned. “What?”

“Those are seriously your plans?” Dex says.   


“Yeah…?” Chowder looks around, self-conscious. “Why, is that weird?”

“For two people who have only been dating for four months to even briefly mention the idea of marriage?” Ransom says. “Yes.”

“Agreed,” says Holster.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that big of a deal,” Chowder says, though his voice is getting an anxious edge to it. “It’s a joke.”

“Yeah, a joke that two people who are well on their way to being  _ actually  _ engaged would pull,” Nursey says, eyebrows raised.

“I hate to say it, but I think they’re right,” Bitty chimes in. “Obviously you and Farmer are cute together, but do you think maybe y’all are moving a little fast?”

Chowder scoffs loudly. “Oh,  _ whatever _ . What are your plans, anyway? Another late night with Tinder Guy?”

Bitty flushes, and Shitty whistles. “Damn, Chowder!”

“I just don’t know why you guys are making it a big deal!” Chowder says, his shoulders hunching towards his ears, defensive.

“For your information, I will not be with Tinder Guy tonight,” Bitty says, which is true, if only because Tinder Guy does not exist. “I’m going to have a quiet night in, instead,” he adds. This is not quite as true.

“What?” Holster demands. “Why? You should get laid.”

And Bitty doesn’t really want to tack onto the string of lies he’s created in the past month, so instead he turns to Nursey. “And what about you, birthday boy? Got any big plans with Maya?”

Nursey smiles, reserved but happy: the same look he always gets when he talks about Maya. “She’s taking me out to dinner,” he says. “I’m not sure where, but I think it’s a surprise. And then after I’m going over to her’s and we’re going to have very intense and romantic love-making.”

Dex wrinkles his nose. 

“Gross,” Chowder says.

“Well, I’m happy for you two,” Bitty says. “You know what? I’m happy for all of us. Because even though some of us may be single — ” He shoots a pointed look at Dex, who groans. “It’s not just Valentine’s Day. It’s also Nursey’s birthday.” Nursey looks a little embarrassed, but pleased nonetheless. “And that’s an occasion to celebrate, right? So let’s treat this day not as Valentine’s Day or as Single’s Awareness Day, but as Derek Nurse’s birthday, which should be a national holiday in and of itself.”

“Aw, Bitty,” Nursey says. “That was so — ”

And then he’s interrupted by the sound of their apartment door creaking open and Jack Zimmermann stepping into the living room before immediately halting at seeing everyone in the living room.

_ Shit,  _ Bitty thinks.

“Uh,” Jack says awkwardly. “Hey guys. What are you all doing up?”

“It’s Nursey’s birthday,” Shitty says, casual, as if Jack waltzing into their apartment unannounced is a regular occurrence. It’s worth noting that Shitty himself walks into their apartment unannounced constantly, so it’s highly likely that Shitty doesn’t find the situation odd at all.

Everyone else, on the other hand, is kind of staring.

“Oh,” Jack says. “Happy birthday, Nursey.”

“Uh. Thanks, man.”

And then Jack, still just as awkward, walks into the living room and sits on the couch, right next to Bitty. “Valentine’s birthday, eh? Got any plans?”

Everyone goes around the room briefly recounting their plans for Valentine’s day, though Chowder’s announcement is a bit more subdued this time. And when everyone’s finished, Jack turns to Bitty with a smirk and asks, “And what about you? Got any plans?” 

Bitty hates this man.

“We tried to convince him to go out and see Tinder Guy,” says Ransom, who’s only goals in life are to ruin Bitty’s life and also get him together with Jack. “But he said no.”

Jack raises his eyebrows. “Who’s Tinder Guy?”

Bitty wants to  _ die. _

“Just this guy Bitty’s been sleeping with for the past month,” Holster says, casual, like he’s not informing Bitty’s coworker and neighbor about his sex life. His heart’s in the right place, probably, because he's most likely just trying to make Jack jealous, but seriously? Some things are  _ personal.  _ “Though he might be a figment of Bitty’s imagination, because we’ve never seen him and he refuses to show us pictures.”

“I see,” Jack says with a nod. Again, Bitty  _ hates  _ him.

“I told you he’s a real guy,” Bitty says with gritted teeth, hoping Ransom and Holster will get the message and shut the fuck up.

Holster, who’s always been too oblivious for his own good, says, “Oh, really? Describe him then.”

Bitty desperately hopes that the floor beneath his feet will magically open up and swallow him whole. It's not like weirder things haven't happened in this loft. But after nothing happens, he glances over at Jack, who’s watching him with raised eyebrows, and then clears his throat. 

“Well,” Bitty says. His face is probably scarlet. “He’s...tall. Has dark hair. Kinda athletic. And he has...nice...eyes. He’s also bilingual.” Bitty glances at Jack out of the corner of his eye, who’s also going a bit red. Bitty shoves a piece of cake in his mouth just to shut himself up.

Chowder raises his eyebrows, and asks, innocently, “He’s bilingual in bed?”

Bitty chokes on his cake. 

“Don’t y’all need to be getting ready for work, or something?” He demands after hacking up a lung.

Jack, who’s a shade of red Bitty didn’t even know existed before, slowly stands up. “I should probably be getting ready for work, too.”

“See ya later, Jack,” Holster says, like he didn’t just force Jack to witness the most embarrassing conversation of all time.

“Hey, why did you come over, anyway?” Ransom asks.

Panicked, Jack darts a glance over at Bitty, who says, “Uh...he came over because he wanted to ask....Holster a question.”

“I...did?” Jack asks.

“Yes,” Bitty says, trying his best to keep a straight face. “You did.”

“Right,” Jack says, still a little uncertain. Holster is staring at him expectantly. “I, uh, wanted to ask you...where you got your pants?”

Holster looks down at his boxers, and then back up at Jack. “I’m not wearing any pants.”

“I mean, your other pants,” Jack says. Bitty withholds a groan. He’s blowing this. “The pants you wore to the bar the other night.”

“Oh,” Holster says, confused. “Uh, I don’t know. Old Navy, probably?”

“Most of his pants come from Old Navy,” Ransom agrees.

“Great. Thanks,” Jack says. “Uh, that was all.”

“Goodbye, Jack,” Bitty says pointedly. “But, I’ll see you...later. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, eyebrows furrowed. “We have work in a couple of hours.”

“Yeah,” Bitty says, and then, with added emphasis, “ _ Later. _ ”

“Oh,” Jack says, and then, “ _ Oh. _ ”

“Bye, Jack,” Bitty says again, holding back a smirk, and Jack waves, nearly walking into the door on his way out. When Bitty turns back around, all of his friends are staring at him. “What?”

“That was weird,” Nursey announces as he stands up. “I’m gonna go get dressed.”

Slowly, everyone begins to drift out of the room, except Holster, who lingers for just a little longer. Bitty turns to him, expectant but anxious, sure Holster will immediately accuse Bitty of doing exactly what he’s been doing for the past month.

Instead, Holster smiles sheepishly and asks, “Hey, can Rans and I borrow your car for work today?”

Secretly relieved, Bitty takes a sip of his morning coffee and regards Holster with raised eyebrows. “What’s wrong with Petunia?”

Petunia is the name Holster and Ransom affectionately call their 2002 Toyota Corolla , a car Holster has owned since before college. 

Needless to say, it’s a piece of junk.

Holster looks at Bitty forlornly. “She’s uh...feeling a bit under the weather.”

Bitty sighs. “Holster. Why don’t y’all just get a new car?”

Holster gasps dramatically, as if Bitty had suggested they commit a murder. “Bitty. It’s  _ Petunia. _ ”

Bitty sighs again. “If I let you borrow my car, how am  _ I  _ supposed to get to work?”

“You couldn’t get a ride from Jack?” Holster asks.

Bitty pauses. Then he grins. “You know what? I probably could.”

And that’s how Bitty and Jack end up five minutes late to work after spending about ten minutes making out in the back of Jack’s car. 

Since True American, things have been...well, interesting is a good way to put it. Sure, he’d had some of the best sex of his life that night, but he knew immediately afterward that it could never happen again. For one thing, Jack was the captain of a popular NHL team and very much in the closet. And for another thing, Bitty 100% had feelings for Jack that he couldn’t expect him to return just because they’d had great sex.

So the morning after when he arrived in the Falconers parking lot, only a few hours after leaving Jack’s apartment, Bitty said, “So, about last night — ”

“Yeah,” Jack said, mouth pulled down in a frown. The sun had barely even risen, and no one was around to overhear, yet Jack spoke quietly anyway, his breath huffing in the cool morning LA air. “I just — I wanted to tell you that...well, I had fun last night but — I think it was a mistake.”

Bitty, who had been thinking about it as a mistake only a few minutes ago, felt his stomach sink. “Oh.”

Jack bit his lip. “I’m sorry, I just — ”

“No, no, I agree with you,” Bitty interrupted. “It was — it was good, but. Stupid.” Jack cringed a little, and Bitty cringed back. “I just mean — we’re neighbors and coworkers and you’re — ”

“No, yeah, I know what you meant,” Jack reassured him quickly. “So, we’re on the same page. It won’t happen again.”

“Right,” Bitty said. “It was just a one-time thing.”

“Just a one-time thing,” Jack agreed.

It does not become a one-time thing.

For the past month, Bitty has falling into Jack Zimmermann's bed at least three times a week, sometimes more. Sometimes Jack will text him — a simple and unassuming “hey” — and Bitty will go over, or other times Bitty will cut him suggestive eyes when they’re at the bar with their friends and they’ll silently sneak away to Jack’s apartment. And every morning, Bitty quietly sneaks into his apartment early enough that his roommates don’t know the difference. In fact, Bitty has managed to convince them that the absences they  _ have  _ picked up on are due to a guy he met on Tinder, who does not exist.

It’s not something he and Jack talk about beforehand, and it’s definitely not something they talk about afterwards. In fact, they don’t talk about it at all. Jack is Bitty’s neighbor, coworker, friend, and now, fuck-buddy, and that’s all there is to it.

Except for it’s not, really, because while Jack is great at sex, he’s also kind, and honest, and funny in an incredibly awkward and dorky way. And Bitty likes him a lot, more than he’s liked anyone in a really long time, which is hard to ignore, especially when he’s seeing Jack naked regularly. But Jack’s never expressed any sort of reciprocation of Bitty’s romantic feelings, and they’ve never even kissed outside of sex. Sure, Bitty spends the night sometimes, but it’s out of convenience more than intimacy. It’s not like they cuddle or anything. 

Well, except for that one time. But that was an accident and an outlier and should not be counted. 

And that’s all fine — really, it is. Bitty’s an adult, and he can make his own decisions, and just because he’s secretly holding a candle for Jack, it doesn’t mean they still can’t have amazing sex together.

Because seriously, the sex is  _ amazing.  _ Jack is great in bed, sure, but he makes Bitty feel great, too, in a way that none of his partners ever have before. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s pining or if Jack’s just that good. It’s probably a bit of both.

And anyway, despite the fact that they’re not dating and that everything is top-secret, it’s probably one of the better relationships Bitty’s been in. It’s not that hard to keep things a secret, either — or at least, it wasn’t, until Jack’s plumbing got fucked about a week ago and he’s had at least five workers in his apartment trying to fix it since then 24/7.

And seriously, Jack’s plumbing must be  _ really  _ fucked, because it’s been a week and the workers still haven’t left. Bitty’s no plumbing expert, but he thinks it shouldn’t be taking that long. When he asked Jack why the workers hadn’t fixed it yet, though, he’d just shrugged, and Johnson, who’d been eavesdropping on their conversation in the elevator, had mentioned something about the plot, and Bitty had dropped the subject.

The point is, the plumbing situation has been really inconvenient. As a result, Bitty and Jack have had to move all of their...extracurriculars to Bitty’s apartment. And because Bitty lives with five other people, and guest stars Shitty and Lardo, it’s hard to be subtle.

Still, they try it.

“I wish those guys would hurry up and get out of your apartment,” Bitty says, hushed, as Jack slides into his bed. He’s only been home from work a couple of hours, and had to sneak Jack into the apartment before everyone congregated in the living room. “I’m tired of trying to dodge my roommates.” 

Who are literally outside his door as he speaks. He’s pretty sure Chowder crashed Ransom and Holster’s rom-com viewing.

“Not tired enough to stop, though,” Jack points out with a half-smirk.

“Shut up,” Bitty says with narrowed eyes, though he can feel himself smiling, too. It’s not like he’s  _ insatiable,  _ alright? They’ve only hooked up in Bitty’s apartment twice, and his roommates weren’t even around both of those times. And look, he deserves sex today. It’s Valentine’s Day, for God’s sake. 

“Stop judging me and put your mouth to actual use,” he says, and tugs Jack in for a kiss.

After a few minutes of vigorous making out — and after it feels like things are finally starting to get somewhere — Jack breaks away. Bitty bites back a frustrated groan. “Should we really be doing this right now, though?”

“What do you mean?” Bitty asks, tugging on Jack’s shirt.

Jack gently pushes Bitty’s hands away. “I  _ mean, _ your roommates are  _ right outside the door. _ ”

“So?” Bitty says. “I can be quiet.”

Jack gives Bitty a look.

“Fair point,” Bitty concedes. “So what do we do?”

“I mean…” Jack shifts in Bitty’s bed. “We could always go somewhere else.”

“Oh, getting inventive, are we?” Bitty teases. “What did you have in mind?”

Jack rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Just go distract them so we can sneak out.”

Bitty snickers and rolls off the bed, slipping out of his room. Holster, Ransom, and Chowder are sitting on the couch. They’ve only gotten to Peter and Juliet’s wedding in  _ Love Actually.  _

“Hey, boys,” Bitty calls from the doorway of his room. “Have y’all seen how beautiful the moon is tonight?”

Ransom, Chowder, and Holster immediately scramble off the couch and head towards the window, luckily facing away from the door to Bitty’s room. Bitty quickly motions for Jack, and the two of them stealthily make their way out of the apartment. Ransom, Chowder, and Holster, who are none the wiser, just stare out the window.

“Wow...” Chowder says. “A full moon.”

“It’s so beautiful,” Ransom says.

“Hey,” Chowder says. “Why do we care about the moon so much?”

“I don’t know,” Holster says with awe in his voice. “I wanna live up there someday.”

Chowder just turns and stares at him.

\--

Nursey gets home from school around five with every intention to get ready for his date with Maya at 6:30. But when he walks into the apartment, Holster, Chowder, Ransom, and Dex are at the part of  _ Love Actually  _ where Hugh Grant delivers his iconic speech as Prime Minister, so he can’t exactly help the fact that he squeezes between Chowder and Dex to watch.

“Don’t you have a date?” Chowder asks with raised eyebrows.

“Maya’s not picking me up til six.”

Chowder raises his eyebrows further. “That’s in an hour.”

Nursey points at the screen. “This scene is legendary, Chow.”

“If I knew you guys would talk the whole time, I never would’ve let you join the rom-com marathon,” Ransom says through gritted teeth.

“Sorry,” Nursey whispers, and settles back against the couch.

The four of them sit together in companionable silence, and Nursey is just beginning to wonder where Bitty is when Holster says, “Guys, do you think I majorly fucked it up with April?”

Chowder lets out a long sigh and pauses the TV. Ransom makes a muffled noise of frustration. “What did you do?” Chowder asks Holster.

Holster sighs too. “She was joking around the other day about not wanting to go to on the bachelorette trip but I said she should because it would be fun and we could use some space.”

Nursey’s eyes widen. “Wait, you  _ said  _ that?”

“Yeah?”

Chowder’s eyes are just as wide as Nursey’s. “And what did  _ she  _ say?”

“She was angry!” Holster cries. “She like slammed the door to the car and everything.” Chowder, Dex, and Nursey just stare at him, and he blinks. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Uh,  _ yes _ ,” Chowder says. “Very.”

Holster’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Dude. You  _ never  _ tell the girl you want space,” Nursey says. “You know what getting more space means? It means you getting more space to have sex with other people.”

“What? No, it doesn’t.”

“It totally does,” Dex says with an eye-roll. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“And if Dex, who has the emotional range of a teaspoon, is saying that, you know you fucked up,” Nursey says.

“Shut up, Nursey.”

“Shit,” Holster swears. “Well what am I supposed to do?”

"Have you been texting her?" Nursey demands. "Have you  _apologized?_ "

"She hasn't answered any of my texts!"

“Then _c_ _ all her! _ ” Chowder insists, frustrated.

Holster hurriedly pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials April’s number almost at lightning speed. Nursey watches Holster wait and listen to the repetitive ring on the other line, and then, April’s voicemail. Holster groans, shoves his phone back in his pocket, and jumps off the couch.

“What are you doing?” Ransom asks, eyebrows pulled together.

“Hey, Bitty, you mind if I borrow your car again?” Holster calls without answering Ransom. And then, without even waiting for Bitty’s response, Holster says, with a higher voice and a terrible Southern accent, “Of course you can, Holster, you’re so amazing!” 

Then Holster moves towards the wooden table next to the door, where Bitty always keeps his keys, and shouts back, to no one, “Thanks, Bitty!”

“Whoa,” Ransom says, standing up. “Where are you going?”

“Vegas,” Holster says, as if this answer makes perfect sense.

“What?” Ransom shrieks. “Now? Why?”

“I have to talk to April!” Holster insists, already pulling the door to the loft open.

“That’s an  _ eight hour drive! _ ” Ransom cries, incredulous.

“I’m not screwing up the first normal relationship I’ve ever had, Rans!” Holster shouts. “If I’m not back by tomorrow morning, call the police!”

“But what about our rom-com mara—” Ransom calls, but it’s too late. Holster’s slamming the door shut behind him before Ransom can even finish his sentence. When he realizes Holster’s gone, Ransom frowns, shoulders slumping. Feeling a bit of sympathy for the guy, Nursey leans over and pats his shoulder.

“You know what? I’m proud of Holster,” Chowder announces. “He may have just stolen Bitty’s car, but he did it as an act of love.”

From next to Nursey, Ransom mutters something under his breath. When Nursey looks over, he has a weird expression on his face.

“Well, I think it’s romantic,” Nursey offers, a bit tentative, because, as per usual, he has no idea what’s going on. “Maybe Holster is making his own romantic comedy.”

“Respect,” Dex agrees, and just as quickly, changes the subject by saying, “I’m gonna go finish my taxes now.”

“Yeah, and since it looks like the movie’s over, I’m gonna go get ready for my date with Cait,” Chowder says, and then he beams excitedly. “Ooh! That rhymed!”

Nursey high-fives Chowder, and then Chowder and Dex wander out of the living room and into their own respective rooms. Ransom is still standing next to him, staring at the door with a frown on his face. “Uh, Ransom?” Nursey asks, poking him in the shoulder. “You okay there buddy?”

“ _ I’m  _ a normal relationship,” Ransom mumbles, seemingly to no one in particular.

It takes Nursey a bit to catch on to what he’s saying, but when he does, he laughs nervously. “I think he meant romantic relationships, dude.”

Ransom’s eyes widen slightly and then he quickly looks away from Nursey, ducking his head. “I know,” he says quickly. “I mean, obviously, I know. I was just — ” And then he abruptly falls silent.

Nursey shifts on his feet, uncertain about how to approach this situation, because Ransom is being weird. As in, weirder than normal. Is this what coral reef mode is like? Nursey’s never seen it in action, but usually the only person that can help with that is Holster. Is it too late to call Holster and ask him to come back?

Not that Nursey thinks that would help much, come to think of it, because Ransom’s only acting weird because Holster left. Or more accurately, because Holster left during their sacred rom-com marathon to drive eight hours to see his girlfriend.

Suddenly, Nursey feels like maybe he’s getting it.

“Hey,” Nursey says in a soft tone. “Just because he went to April doesn’t mean he still doesn’t care about you. Or your rom-com marathon. You know that, right?”

“I know that,” Ransom huffs, annoyed. He’s still not looking at Nursey. “It’s just — he’s never — he’s never had a relationship as serious as this and they’ve been really happy together but I never — ” Ransom cuts himself off again.

Nursey frowns, because while that may be true, it’s not a bad thing. In fact, Holster’s seemed really happy lately, and if anything, Ransom should be happy his best friend is finally in a serious and stable relationship. But Ransom sounds anything but happy right now, and Nursey gets maybe feeling a little bit of jealousy, but that doesn’t account for —

Then everything clicks.

“Holy shit,” Nursey realizes out loud. “You like Holster.”

Finally, Ransom faces Nursey, looking shocked. “What? No I don’t.”

Nursey shakes his head. “You do,” he says, and he can’t believe he didn’t see it until now. Then again, when he first moved into the loft, he hadn’t understood Ransom and Holster — they shared a room together, were constantly cuddling, and were so in-sync that they were practically the same person. They acted more like a married couple than the married couples Nursey actually knew, but every time he asked about it, his roommates would just laugh. “That’s just Ransom and Holster,” they’d say, and Nursey’d let it drop.

Only it turns out maybe he'd been in the right all along.

“I don’t like Holster,” Ransom insists, though he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more so than Nursey. “I don’t like Holster because Holster’s my best friend, and it’s not weird that I’m jealous he’s driving eight hours for April because for the longest time I was Holster’s priority and now I just need to readjust.”

Nursey just blinks at him.

“It’s not a big deal,” Ransom insists, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m just not used to someone else being this important to him. That’s all.”

But that’s not all, and Nursey knows it, and worse, Ransom knows it too. Nursey’s not sure if Ransom knows it consciously or subconsciously, but he knows that he  _ knows. _

“Rans,” Nursey begins softly. “It’s okay if you — ”

“I don’t,” Ransom interrupts. Nursey shuts his mouth with an audible click. “Look, I...it’s not a big deal, alright?”

Nursey opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. “I mean...it feels like  _ you  _ think it’s a big deal — ”

“Nursey!” 

“Okay, okay,” Nursey says, holding up his hands in surrender. Ransom rolls his eyes. “I mean, I get if you don’t wanna talk about it. But if you ever  _ do  _ feel like talking about it…”

“Yeah,” Ransom says, softer and more genuine. He huffs out a sigh. “I got it. Just...go get ready for your date.”

“Okay.”

And just as Nursey is about to go into his own room, Ransom calls, “And Nursey?” 

He stops and turns around. Ransom is still standing alone in the middle of the living room, fidgety and not quite looking at in Nursey’s direction. Still, he has a small smile on his face when he says, “Uh. Thanks.”

Nursey smiles encouragingly back at him.

\--

Holster may only be twenty-eight, but he’s done a lot in his life, okay? He’s been to Niagara Falls three times (with Ransom) and Myrtle Beach twice (with Ransom) and the Grand Canyon once (with Ransom and Shitty and Lardo.) There was even that time he got stuck in a dog crate in PetSmart.

So, in summary, he’s done a lot of crazy shit. But he thinks, at least for now, that making an impromptu eight-hour trip to Las Vegas in a car that’s not even his to apologize to his girlfriend takes the cake.

He doesn’t even realize he hasn’t got April’s address until he hits Nevada, meaning he has to pull over to a gas station in the middle of nowhere just to find her location on Snapchat, praying it’s still accurate. After that, he practically speeds to her hotel, and it’s not until he’s parked that it occurs to him he has no idea what her room number is. 

After that realization, he really only has one option.

“Hey, April,” Holster says after a few rings. He’s almost surprised she answered. “Uh, random question...which room would you happen to be staying in at your hotel?”

April is silent for so long that Holster almost thinks she’s hung up. “Adam...where are you right now?”

Holster laughs nervously. “Uh...the parking lot of your hotel?”

“Why in the  _ world  _ are you — ” Then she cuts herself off and lets out a muffled groan of frustration. “Nevermind. I’ll be down in a few.” Then she hangs up.

Holster breathes in a deep breath and then breathes it back out. Then he climbs out of the driver’s seat, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it in what he hopes is a casual stance.

April walks out of the lobby doors of the hotel not long after, wearing sweatpants and an old ULCA shirt. She frowns as soon as she spots Holster, and she doesn’t look angry, exactly, but she doesn’t look all that happy to see him, either.

Well. Holster will take what he can get.

“What the hell are you  _ doing  _ here?” She hisses, standing across from him and crossing her arms over her chest. She takes a glance at the car behind him and demands, “And whose car is that?”

“Uh,” Holster says, nervous. “Bitty’s?”

April rolls her eyes. “How did you find me, anyway?”

“Your location on Snapchat,” Holster explains easily. When April raises an eyebrow at that, Holster hastily backtracks, “Not in a stalker-y way. That sounded bad. Just like, you weren’t answering my calls and — ”

April lets out a loud sigh. “Why are you here, Adam?”

Holster frowns. “I wanted to apologize,” he says softly. April just waits. “I shouldn’t have said that. The other day, the thing about us needing space.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” April says shortly. “But you did, so. Is that all?”

“I mean I shouldn’t have said it because I didn’t mean it,” Holster insists. “I don’t want space. That’s the absolute opposite of what I want, because what we have is really good and the last thing I want to do is say something stupid and fuck it up. Which, I guess I already did, but, that’s why I’m here! To apologize and tell you I was wrong and that our relationship means a lot to me and God, this speech is getting really embarrassing.”

“I don’t know,” April says. The corner of her mouth tugs up into a small smile.“It’s not such a bad speech.”

Holster lets out a relieved half-laugh. “The summary of it is, I’m an idiot and I’m sorry.”

“You are an idiot,” April agrees, and Holster winces a little bit. “But you also drove four hours just to apologize, so I think I can forgive you this once.”

Holster’s face breaks out into a grin, and April smiles back, wraps her arms around Holster’s neck, and kisses him against the car he stole. They kiss for a while, pleasant and taking their time, but it's far too soon when April  pulls away and says, “I should really go back up before my friends think you’ve kidnapped me and taken me back to LA.”

“Jesus,” Holster whistles. “Do they really have that low of an opinion of me?”

April winces. “I may have spent the past day venting?”

“I probably deserved that,” Holster admits.

“You did,” April agrees. “But I promise I’ll go back up there and preserve your reputation.”

“My hero,” Holster declares, and kisses her again. Again, it’s far too short, because April pulls away to remind him that she has to go back upstairs and that he has to go back to LA to return Bitty’s car. Still, they end up kissing one last time before Holster climbs back into the car with a silly, dopey grin on his face.

As he flies down the interstate back towards LA, Holster feels on top of the world. Really, he’s never been in a better mood, so he decides to treat himself to a milkshake from McDonald’s at an exit not far from April’s hotel. Their ice cream machine isn’t even broken, which Holster interprets as a good sign. 

After McDonald’s, he’s back on the highway, his showtunes playlist at full volume, loudly belting out the lyrics to  _ Wicked  _ just because he can. And when the gas light turns on almost three hours into the trip, Holster’s still not deterred. After all, maybe Bitty will be less angry with him if he knows Holster filled up his gas tank for him. Crazier things have happened, he thinks as he pulls into the closest gas station and hums to himself as he fills up the tank. 

And when the lady at the pump next to him says, “Excuse me, do you mind loaning me a couple of dollars? I’m a bit short,” Holster doesn’t even mind. This lady seems nice, if a bit nervous, and he has cash on him, anyway. It might be worth it to spread some good karma, Holster decides as he walks towards the lady, smiles, and pulls a ten out of his pocket.

His good mood finally runs out when the lady says, “There’s someone in the trunk of your car.”

Holster’s so startled he almost drops his wallet. “What?”

The woman’s eyes are widened, and judging by the way she continues to pump her own gas, she didn’t actually need any money for gas in the first place. “I saw a guy in the back of your car.”

Holster freezes.

“You need to call 911,” the woman says seriously. “Do you need me to call 911? Do you need me to stay with you?”

“No, no,” Holster says, a little shell-shocked. “I’ve — I’ve got it.”

He’s not sure why he says that, because he’s never really got anything, in his life. Still, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, ready to dial, and slowly approaches the car. 

The distance between the lady’s pump and the trunk of Bitty’s car truly feels like longest distance in the world, and Holster’s hands may or may not be shaking, and when he reaches the car he’s almost too afraid to look.

Still, with one eye open and one eye tightly shut, he slowly peeks into the back window of Bitty’s van.

He’s not quite sure what he’s expecting to find, although the first thing that comes to mind is a guy with a knife and a bleached Captain Kirk mask. What he’s definitely  _ not  _ expecting to find in the back of the trunk is Bitty and Jack, very naked aside from the thin blanket they’ve draped across their laps. 

Jack grimaces and waves. Bitty hides his face in his hands. Holster just stares.

Finally, Holster turns back to the lady at the other gas pump, who’s watching with concern, and gives her a smile he hopes looks genuine. “It’s alright, ma’am. Just my roommate.”

“Are you sure?” The woman doesn’t sound convinced, so Holster tries to make his smile more reassuring and less like he’s never been more surprised in his life.

“Yep, all good,” Holster says, opening the driver’s door and calling, “Thanks for your help, though!”

Then he slams the door shut behind him and whirls around to face the trunk, where a very sheepish Jack and Bitty are watching him. 

“So,” Holster says. “Uh, what the  _ fuck? _ ”

Bitty grimaces. “It’s not what it looks like?” He tries.

Holster just stares again, and then shifts the car into gear and drives out of the parking lot. He doesn’t say anything at all until they’re back on the interstate, when Holster finally looks back over his shoulder at Jack and Bitty, who look just as awkward and uncomfortable as they did earlier.

“Well, I hope one of you guys is gonna say  _ something, _ ” Holster announces. “Because I sure would like to know why the two of you have been naked in my trunk for the past seven hours.”

Bitty narrows his eyes. “ _ My  _ trunk.”

“Besides the point.”

Bitty lets out a long sigh. “Alright. We’ll explain everything, okay?”

“Good,” Holster says. “Because otherwise, we’re gonna have a real awkward hour-long ride.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UP NEXT: Secrets are revealed and gratuitous Guardians of the Galaxy references are made.
> 
> Feel free to follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/mantisnebuIas) and [tumblr](http://maxsliz.tumblr.com/)!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh ok so I've been so excited to post this! I've been working on it for a while and I've put probably WAY too much effort into planning this whole thing lol. But I love Check please and New Girl is one of my very favorite shows (if not my VERY FAVORITE) so it was kinda inevitable that I write this fic. And I've barely written for characters other than Nursey, Dex, and Chowder so this has been a little intimidating to write and I'm not quite sure I've nailed the characterization for the other characters but I really wanted to include all the main characters in this fic and give them equal "screen time" so hopefully I did ok!
> 
> Just a warning, this fic is going to be LONG. I have the entire thing outlined but I only have about a quarter of it written, so updates will probably be monthly. But I have big plans for this fic and I'm really excited to play all the relationships and storylines out so! It should be fun!
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for reading, leave a comment, tell your friends, etc. etc.


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